14070/Wake Up and smell the Coffee

Wake Up and smell the Coffee
Date of Scene:	07 February 2023
Location:	Open Eye Coffeehouse
Synopsis:	When 'Jake' (not from State Farm) peddles some items to some people at the Open Eye Coffee shop, and catches the attention of Phoebe Beacon. Phoebe plays up the Wayne angle to try and get him to try to sell to her, but ends up getting more than she wanted when Mike Hannigan joins the group for a cup of joe. After a brief argument, Phoebe offers 'Jake' (Caleb Dykstra) a bugged Wayne Enterprises card to track his movements, hoping to track down the thugs he's concerned will make his little sister disappear. Everyone is a jerk, Mike gets a pastry.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Caleb Dykstra, Michael Hannigan

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The Open eye was the premiere coffeehouse where a bunch of the Gotham University students liked to hang out, talk shop, or listen to local musicians and chill out between classes.

    Among them today? Phoebe Wayne. The adopted child of Bruce Wayne and young socialite who was sometimes paraded out at galas on her brother Tim's arm.

    Today she walked in with her backpack and a tablet, working on an Art Class project and in desperate need as she gets up to the counter.

    "Hey Toni, can I have the biggest oat-milk cinnamon latte you all got? Like, if there's a spare five gallon bucket?" she asks, dumping a twenty into the tip jar with a grin. "I'm kinda desperate."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
In the coffeehouses you can find several types, from the more professional sorts (really young people just trying to look more adult), to the jocks, the frat boys, the nerds, to the outright geeks, and to those who just want to stay in for a moment of silence with their brew. Somewhere along these latter, a young man in a hoodie with a coat for the weather comes in and looks around. He finds a group of students - frat boys, really -, and he approaches them. He lowers his hood to reveal he also has a cap.

The frat boys look at him with some curiosity as if they didn't recognize him, but then the smiles creep up to their faces. So the interaction takes place, he's there for like, five minutes, and proceeds to get up, waving a friendly goodbye to them.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe sits down at a counter with her coffee, and she watches the interaction play out. It's something she's seen in tons of back alleys, boardwalks, the schools she went to. Everyone's friend.

    She taps her fingers on her coffee a moment, and then sets up her tablet to continue on an art project to be 3D printed.

    Of course, her tablet is a very, very high-end Wayne Enterprises product. You can't just *get those*, mostly because they're not publicly available yet.

    She's also scanning for recent venmo, paypal and other digital transactions to see if she can get a bead on the guy with the hood and the hat, trying to set a trap.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
When Phoebe pulls her hacking stunt, she can definetely see transactions, withdrawals, deposits. From the phones, she can see the names these are registered to.

But there's a phone number in the vicinity that bears no registration, possibly belonging to a burner - no identity, and the person likes it that way. There are also no registered numbers on the phone - either the list is short, or the bearer deletes them. Smart - don't use a smart phone, so you don't show up on the radar.

As the hooded guy turns his head, he heads to another group of people, this time posh girls. They look at him like he was one of their besties, when more than likely in another occasion they wouldn't give him the second of their makeup and beauty parlor session.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Bingo.

    Phoebe switches the program she's using to her own phone. She feeds it into the Bat Computer, and she tags it for new investigation as she sips her coffee. The nice thing about the way this place makes it? It's a bit like having an oatmeal cookie in a cup.

    She watches as the hooded guy goes over to the posh girls. She knew a couple of them by name. Not friendly enough to go over there unless she decided to name-drop, and oh did that get gauche.

    But he does pull up that unlisted burner number. She bounces signal off the nearby cell towers to try and triangulate it to her position. She breathes out, following the steps she was taught. Red Robin might be proud of her for following the instructions to do this tech and not just magic her way through it. Good job Pheeb!

    She continues to watch him, glancing up from her work on the 3D model.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Another five minutes of conversation, another transaction made. And he gets up, waves goodbye. A casual glance about is then given, so his eyes glaze over Phoebe. Finding nobody else on his list, he moves over to the counter, all the while doing his best to keep his features hidden.

Once sitting at the counter, he asks, "I'll have a coffee, please."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a side-eye over the cloth of her lowered hood to the hoodie-guy, and she glances up to the barrista, and she gives a smile.

    "He's on me today." she waves with a small grin, and she sets her little wallet on the counter. It has her student ID in the front window, with her smiling face and "PHOEBE A WAYNE" scrawled on it. Because having a Wayne in the Freshman class is lucrative as an advertising tool for the College, and having Wayne on her student ID opens more doors than just the dorms and labs.

    "Hey, I'm Phoebe." she introduces herself with a little wave. "You're quite the social butterfly."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
The young man in the hoodie looks at Phoebe and her amicable posture. Saying nothing, in a glance he looks at her card, and then at her. A Wayne, huh? A Wayne that's buying him coffee out of the blue, and now commenting how friendly he is. "Hi there, Phoebe." A professional move: when you see a lot is being offered to you, suspect. "And yes, you could say I'm known here or there, so to speak. Call me Jake." Another professional move: never give away your true name.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well, Jake," Phoebe gives a grin, "nice to meet you." she gives a smaller smile, and she pulls her wallet back over, closing her phone and putting it in her pocket, and then works a bit on her project.

    "Not often I see someone with the Kapas and then swoop over to the Janices over there," she remarks as she taps on her screen with a stylus, and then takes a sip of her coffee. "So you got some sorta hair serum you're sellin'? 'Cause man let me tell you these braids could use something with a little more refresh." she replies conversationally, dark eyes flicking over to the hoodie.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"Naw, don't say that...", 'Jake' says, having a look at the braids, "They look just fine to me." He raises his hands in something akin to an apology. "If you don't mind my saying, that is."

He points to them, "Karolyn and Jessie there, I know them since grammar school. I think Ruby's got a thing for me, but that might just be me in the high clouds." He points at the frat boys, "Jace, Matty and Vince? Old band buddies from a time when we thought we were gonna change the world through death metal", he shrugs, "Big letdown that was, but we keep in touch."

He changes the subject, "Working on a project there?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Three-Dee Printing project. I'd ask my brother for help on it but he's busy with some post-grad engineering." she gives a slight grin. "Hey, Death Metal can change the world one person at a time, you should never give up on that, you know?" she states, and she looks up, taking one of her braids in hand and taking a look at it and then she shrugs and gives it a draw back behind her ear.

    "So what classes are you in, Jake? Don't think I've seen you in my common-eds."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
While Mike may look to be in his early twenties, the entertainer is NOT a college guy. Some folks may have been groomed with the expectation of going to college or university after high school. Either working their butts off academically or athletically. That- was not Mike. Anyone who may have had such expectations checked out long before that topic would have been relevant.

And yet, here Hannigan is, dressed down in Goodwill's finest, a secondhand jacket, and wearing a knit cap to hide the long locks that tend to be attributed to his stage persona of Nick Drago. In yet another college heavy coffee shop. Why?

Well, there's just something about higher end coaches and universities.

His vocal coach had dragged him to Columbia University earlier. And now... Fencing. However the commute was a tad quicker than expected so there was time to kill. So a nice cup of coffee seemed to be in order.

As the musician steps in to the shop, he takes a moment to take note of the lack of available tables. Hmm. A cup to go it is then. Not that it makes much difference to how the beverage will be served. There's a slight sigh before he walks over to the counter.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"That's because I'm not enrolled", 'Jake' tells Phoebe. "I mean, you aspire dreams when you're a kid, but life gives you lemons, so you make lemonade." He sips his coffee - and closes his eyes for a brief moment to taste it -, sets the mug down. "But, unless life also gives you water and sugar, that lemonade will just taste like bitter lemons." He makes the money-rubbing gesture as he says that. "Society times Gotham life equals you're all the way up there, and I'm all the way down here."

He smirks, raises the mug to his lips, "At least it's a good coffee, though", and sips.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah, I know. I was homeless for a couple years. Sleeping in friends' basements, on couches. Working under the table in bars and depending on the generosity of others, paying my way through GED classes with sometimes... leeeess than ethical funds." she offers a slight glimpse, and she shakes her head. "You got lemons. Lemon oil can be used to ignite a fire under your ass... or institutions... buuuut I'm pretty sure that's just wishful thinking on my part. After all --"

    She sips her coffee, looking over to 'Jake'.

    "What do I know, I'm aaaaaaaaaall the way up there."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As the younger store patrons talk about lemonade, Mike sets about acquiring coffee. Being that he doesn't add anything to it, the time from dumping his change into the tip jar and the drink being ready is minimal. His departure from the store is an assured thing.

Except as he turns, he sees a Phoebe talking to a classmate maybe? He lifts up a hand, waving in greeting.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
'Jake' slowly nods, smirking, "Well, casinos do exist in Gotham life - they're good to make some people great, and leave all the rest wondering 'why them and not me?'."

He dismisses that last comment, "But that's uncalled for. You're being nice, and all - nicer than most people ever get to be to a total stranger, in fact. So, apologies." He looks at Mike, and raises an eyebrow quizzically - this is a face he hasn't met.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Mike?" Phoebe blinks, turning and catching the performer from the corner of her eye, and she gives a bright smile as she looks over to the singer. "

    "Hey, 'mon, I'll buy you coffee too. Lemmie introduce you to Jake -- Jake this is my friend Mike." she gives a wry smile. "We've worked together on a couple things."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Phoebe says his name, he gives a slight nod of confirmation. The cup raises in response to the offer for coffee but he does step over to the table, allowing for the group to keep their voices down to just table level.

"Already got the coffee taken care of." Mike finally states after cutting the distance. The cup shifts over to the left hand before the right is offered over to Jake upon the introduction. The jacket does its job of hiding the scar upon the forearm. There's a quirk of a smile as Phoebe gives a vague reference to working on stuff. "I do some charity work." Mike offers to Caleb as a mildly sufficient explanation for what 'things' might entail.

He looks over to Phoebe, "Wasn't really expecting to see you here. I have a thing going on over here and ended up making extremely good time on my way over. So this is my reward." The cup gets raised again for illustration.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
"How ya doin', Mike?", he offers a nod, and shakes the guy's hand. Listening, he raises his eyebrows, "Charity work? Good, good - Gotham sure could use some, believe me."

He looks back to Phoebe's tablet. "Anything related to that project there, Phoebe?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Mike. I have class here." Phoebe states, "I go to college. I teested out of--" she pauses a moment, and she turns to Caleb.

    "... you know that Bruce Wayne pumps billions into charity for the city right?" she sips her coffee, taking a long pull. "Thomas and Martha Wayne Soup Kitchens. Public housing. Rent assistence. Rehab assistance. Opportunities through the Wayne Enterprises Works, where they're the largest hiring firm of ex-cons and gang members in the city. Assistance removing gang tattoos to start new lives, transitioning housing. Medical bill forgiveness, medical help through the Thompkins Clinic. Loan forgiveness programs through charitable works and social services working. Not to mention independent investigation of corrupt officials, ethics violations in police forces, grants, animal rescues --" she trails off a moment, "Gotham gets charity. Lots of charity. And some of us get paraded out in front of a bunch of jerks to keep the income going because getting the other rich people to invest in it is the hard part. Because if there's the illusion of a unified front, it makes it look good on them, but it makes it much easier to go through..." Phoebe taps a couple points on her tablet, "get the money where it's supposed to be--" there's a warning beep --

    And then the tablet crashes.

    Mike may pick up that there's an uptick in the ambient magical energy coming from Phoebe. It appears Jake has struck a nerve.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Phoebe explains her presence on campus, Mike rolls his eyes. "Phoebe, it may come as a shock to you but I don't think I've ever had the thought of 'Oh I bet I'll run into a Wayne while grabbing a coffee.'

As Caleb gets the longer explanation, Mike takes the time to sip his coffee. There is the slight nod of agreement to the mention of being paraded around. The cup lowers.

"I believe we can safely assume my expendable income is NOWHERE near where her family's is. I generally help out with my time and energy. He gives a shrug, "A little bit of parading but not as well dressed of course."

Feeling a slight nudge. Mike looks over to Phoebe, giving a curious look and then to the crashed tablet. "...I hope you save often."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Caleb Dykstra slowly nods to what Phoebe is saying. "Well, if that's the case..." He leans forward as if to tell a secret - because you never know who might be listening, right? "Then how is Gotham still up to its neck in corruption, and poverty hits an all-time high, where people work their asses off for food, or have to get it some other way? Because, where I stand from..." He shakes his head, "So sorry, not convinced. All due respect to Bruce Wayne, but the Gotham's one-percent have very thick skulls to go with their wallets. Maybe they just want the chance to parade on their half-a-billion dollar suit. Well, while the vagrant sleeps underneath ripped blankets in the dark, piss-smelling alley, that's sending the wrong message, in my book."

Even lower still, "And of those institutions, tell me... How many have sunk into corruption under the directors' very noses, became fronts in some fashion for...", he shrugs, "well, stuff that makes people liable for crimes against humanity?"

He looks at the tablet, "Your state-of-the-art needs fixing, there."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You'd be surprised, I ran into Bruce two days in a row, at different coffee places, once with my dog. As in he had my dog with him. I think the dog likes him." she comments to Mike, and then tries to power the tablet back on. Unfortunately there seems to be some interference.

     "Gotham's One Percent don't give a fuck, but they like pretending they do because the Waynes *do*. Any Wayne-held charity is squeaky clean and tracks right down to the dollar. One of us is a homicide detective. Another runs the Tech division's R&D in his spare time. I'm gearing towards Ethics and Charitable Giving and Medical Technology because /I/ remember when Gotham City was No Man's Land, and I remember how Gotham acted when my dad died saving people in the Narrows. I remember staying up late at night and listening to gunshots and sirens wailing and counting heads in my first grade class to make sure my friends made it through the night." she states evenly, and then icily adds:

    "And what do you do about your complaints besides flit between the Greeks and the Preps and waste air? Are you using the free money that I mentioned to go to school and get into any these places and take them from the inside to match your morality?" she asks, and then turns to Caleb, her eyes narrowed.

    "Or are you just pissing into the wind and soaking your own fucking trousers?"

    

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike is quiet for a few moments, considering Caleb's argument. And then Phoebe's response. Yeah, he should not get involved in this conversation.

...

Fuck it.

"It is upsetting. Isn't it?" Mike asks, "That there is so much going on. And even with the assistance, there's so much more left to do. It might even be discouraging. Why should they bother if they can't fix the entire situation in one fell swoop? Why should they bother where there are other people fucking up the process?"

Mike pauses to take another sip, lowering the cup. "'I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.' The Waynes are generating a lot of them, but even they are limited in what they can do. Those ripples won't cover the whole lake." Pale eyes look to Caleb, "But that's where people like you can step in. Instead of trying to discourage those who take the time to help, use what stones you have to cover where they can't reach. Get those you know or help to do the same."

He takes another sip. Then again, what does he know? He's just a musician.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
He listens.

He listens intently.

His expression remains the same, and know it - it is unsettling.

Seconds pass after Phoebe and Mike speak. And his expression hasn't changed. It's like he froze in time. Or had just been replaced by a statue that was painted in very realistic colors.

"Aw, Phoebe... It was going so well, right until that last part about wasting air and pissing into the wind", he finally breaks the awkward silence and motionlessness.

"Let me...", he finishes the coffee, "Delicious, mind you", he interrupts his train of thought, but resumes, "Lemme then tell you a story of two siblings. It starts when one of them wasn't even born, the older living in the land of happily ever after with his two parents, not a care in the world, and happy to greet his soon-to-be new sibling. Then, a great cataclysm struck, and mother and son were trapped in rubble for days on end, hoping help would come soon. The mother, growing weaker with time", he looks at the mug, now empty, "legs trapped under rubble, went into labour with the older child assisting. It would be her last struggling effort, to tell the child to look after his sister." His expression remains oddly stoic, "Just an hour later, help would finally come."

"But so he did, responsible as he was. His father struggled to rebuild, and cutbacks got in the way, but still the family endured." He pauses for a few seconds, "And then, beings from other worlds struck over freshly rebuilt houses, and the family went underground. But, to do so, they had to face one of their numbers - and it was up to the brother, to strike the killing blow." His expression goes darker at this, perhaps a hint of satisfaction as he remembers that there was no love loss there, and a promise went fulfilled.

"And the family endured this as well", he says. "But again, cutbacks and rebuilding, and insurances, and further and further down the line the family goes. The older sibling did all he could to keep his own safe as time passed." A smirk, "He even took the literal bullet for the younger, in a store when it was being raided by thieves."

But it's now that his expression gets dark. "But, money doesn't grow on trees, and insurances run on money. So, the father strikes a bargain with powerful people - do a favour here and there when asked, and you'll get by." A pause there, only to resume, "But, the favours keep coming, and at some point, the father does what seems sensible, but impossible - he asks to be let off the deal."

Looking at his cup again, he shakes his head. "These powerful people said no, and demonstrated their displeasure the hardest way possible. And in turn, they recruited the oldest son, who is to do what they demand, or all the family pays the price."

He pauses, looks at the mug. "Great coffee, and nice chat." He pulls out the money, plus tip. "My coffee's on me. I insist." He proceeds to walk away from the counter, "The fact that you see me as wasting air, Ms. Wayne, is the exact proof of your... /transcendence/ into the one-percent. For we have both been in the trenches, and you can now rest comfortably in a bed with silk sheets and warm blankets, and parade on gala dresses when there's one." He looks at Mike, "I've stepped in a lot all my life, 'Mother Teresa'. I help more than you can possibly imagine - me, my own. It's all I can do."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe is quiet, attentive, but also absorbing information. She's watching 'Jake's' expression change, building up to the story.

    She lets out a breath she knows she was holding, an she stands.
    "Look." she begins, and she doesn't reach out, not exactly.

    Instead, she holds out a card. It's simple, white, with a very lightly raised imprint for Wayne Enterprises.

    "You're an asshole. I can appreciate that. When you're done peddling to the Sigmas, maybe look me up and I can get you a better deal than pissing into the wind." she states, with as much control in her voice as she can muster.

    "I'd rather see you in a suit than a mugshot."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike considers Caleb for a few moments before shaking his head.

"Yes. That is a shit story. And unfortunately, this city and another one I also forced to live in is full of them. Gotham kid loses parent. Neighborhood turns against him. Police no help. News at 5, 6, 7, 8..."

The pale eyes narrow, contributing to an icy glimmer of color peering back at Caleb. "How long were you rehearsing that story in your head while we were trying to speak to you? I know you heard us because you pulled out some soundbytes to mock. But did you even listen? You say you've stepped a lot in your life. Well, I wonder just how many of those steps you take are wasted trying to stomp on the hands offering legitimate help."

He takes note of the card being offered by Phoebe and tilts his head to it. "Don't waste this one."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Mike, stop being an asshole." Phoebe comments, with an eyenarrow back to the musician. "I can only stand so much and he got the first number."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike looks back, "Maybe I will if he fucking actually listens to people instead of attacking them."

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
'Jake' looks at Mike when he talks about rehearsing the story with a smirk, "I'm great at improv, man. So, about point-three seconds." He shrugs, "Or I just relive it every day."

He looks at the card like it holds the plague, "Yes, I get help. Yes, I pull out. How long until my kid sister disappears and I start to get pieces of her mailed to me? Or my father disappears, and his corpse is found in an alleyway, stripped of all his organs?"

Still, after a moment of hesitation, he takes the card, and heads out.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... not if I can find the people who'd do the disappearing act first." Phoebe mutters crossly, and she takes out her phone, checking a progress bar as she looks at 'Jake's' back, and then looks to Mike.

    And she gives a small shrug.

    "You want a pastry?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike watches as Caleb heads out, still frowning. But- at least he did take the card. To the mention of pastry, Mike gives pause. He checks his phone, looking to the time.

"Sure."