18915/When You're A Bad Influence

When You're A Bad Influence
Date of Scene:	25 August 2024
Location:	Sundollar Coffee - Avenue of Tomorrow
Synopsis:	Lunch shall be had!
Cast of Characters:	Meggan Puceanu, Mary Bromfield

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Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Sundollar Coffee generally follows that whole ubiquitous, soulless corporate entity feel. However, some effort to venture away from the archetypical copycat of another Sundollar outpost a few blocks over leads the hopeless assistant manager to allow an up-and-coming musician to play inside their store. Of course, it comes with a few corporate touches. The music is for sale at the counter still. Guests still have to purchase drinks. The young woman has a livestream of herself going as she sits on a stool, and she's got several Sundollar bags of coffee propped up in a pyramid at the edges of the screen.

Persimmon Gale is some kind of influencer based on 'tiny concerts' and drag-level makeup, and she's currently there in her fluffy skirts, striped socks, and ironic t-shirts channelling what was cool last in 1997. She has a guitar in her lap and a sparkly headset capturing her voice along with her 'backup' band -- some Korean synth box and a sound mixer. People mill around the seating area as she gives herself a rest and her drink a sip.

Meggan is stuck in the long queue for people ordering overpriced, underflavoured drinks. She cranes to look over at all the excitement, trying to puzzle out the deal while the baristas flop and flail at the espresso machines because they're not all there. Those who haven't been caffeinated could be described the same, but the people milling around simply look lost.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary is a few people back behind Meggan, and normally she wouldn't be caught dead in a Sundollar Coffee... she was a barista at the Coffee Bean after all, and she has /standards/, but she has been following Persimmon Gale for a bit. Not that she's a fan, but it's been a case of morbid curiosity more than anything else. That and there's been something tickling her about the fellow influencer that she wasn't exactly able to pin down.

So since this is a rare chance for her to catch the influencer in person, she's come on down to the Sundollar for some bad drinks and horrible vibes to see what the fuss is about in person. Even if Mnemosyne is murmuring something in her ear about something not quite being /right/ about the whole thing...

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Sundollar Coffee might be the bland, safe option for coffee at the airport or Metropolis' food deserts, but it's not Meggan's first choice either. Or fifth. But it's relatively cheap and ubiquitous when she needs some infusion of tea in milk. Beggars must and all that.

Still, the slow-motion attempt to order anything requires the line to shuffle along and the girl at the counter keeps drawling out questions. She repeats herself on a drink while poking at the register, coming up with $10-$15 totals regularly enough to rouse protest from some customers.

Six people ahead. Better, even if six are squashed at the counter. "Um," she breathes out a sound, unsure about the guy staring into space near a case. "Do you have more choco croissants?" The blonde points at an empty spot with crumbs shaped like pain au chocolat, but he just keeps staring. Really? Really.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
But mostly they're all glued to watch the 20-something Persimmon hugging her guitar, giggling in tinkling sounds that are part coquettish and part girly. Her assistant pokes at her Vaio laptop.

"All right, my luvs, it's time to move onto the next song in the set. I can't lounge around forEVER in Sundollar Coffee, but you can, as long as you buy a drink!" Her broad wink makes her sparkly eyeshadow glimmer, spackled on her lids. She waves a beringed hand and her assistant pokes a key. The synth box starts twisting her voice around.

"Close the window, turn down the lights,
Put on your best dress when you think of me,
Every time, I know it's every night."

It's manufactured pop, bubbly and synth-heavy, and the mental drain is slow indeed.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary frowns a little bit at the vapid lyrics, as it definitely tickles the hairs on the back of her neck. She glances around at the crowd, wondering if it's just her... and as she does so, she just happens to make eye contact with Meggan. Meanwhile, the murmuring of Mnemosyne in the back of Mary's head is joined by Athena, who's definitely sending up a warning of a threat of some kind...

Though, a crowded coffeeshop isn't the /best/ place to call the lightning. Even if it's a Sundollar.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Persimmon Gale has a pretty voice and lots of followers connected by Tik-Insta-Snap-foo, her social media demands swamping the coffee shop's network. That's lucky for her that they're also pirating someone else's wi-fi to keep the broadcast going. Her voice swirls around, projected through the speakers set up, and the harmonics overcome the limited chatter around the line where newcomers are. The people behind Mary whisper and look sidelong, trying to figure out who the influencer is. Some don't care at all, nose deep in a phone, but the light in their eyes slowly glazes over. She might spot those up at the front clearly more worn down than the newcomers.

Meggan points again at the croissant plate, and when she doesn't get much more than a mumbled response, she waves her hand lightly. "That's okay. I'll... hi? Hullo, sir, I'm right--" Her not-helpful employee turns as the music starts, and plants all his adoring focus on Persimmon of the bright choppy hair, adorned by butterfly charms and other dark things. Sighing, she looks down the line with a pained smile. "Sorry, just trying to figure out whatever they had." Because what if they think she's a queue-cutter? No, can't have that.

Still, the music keeps drawling on, captured by the sound, and she blinks off at no one in particular -- something in particular, maybe. A few seconds later she shunts back into herself, shaking her head as if trying to knock things off. "Has anyone ordered? I..." Only one person has moved. Weird!

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary catches everyone else, particularly the employees, getting enraptured by the influencer's music and... well, she /was/ a barista. This is not typical barista behavior, particularly when the influencer is as mid as this one is. Noticing that Meggan is one of the few people not quite so affected by it near the front of the queue, Mary slips her way forward, jostling a bit though it isn't noticed too much by the entranced people ahead to come up next ot Meggan.

"Hey, are you noticing that people are acting a bit... weird. Like, almost hypnotized or something?" Because she wants to sound like it isn't just her, to be honest, and this is definitely not her normal scale of weird that she tends to deal with on a regular basis.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Being exposed for 9 hours a day to banal music, depending on a shift, erodes the brain. Worse for those dealing with a glut of people trying to get into the cafe. Usual lines rarely snake outside the store except for special promotions, but the fact no one seems to leave only makes it feel that much more crowded. The line shuffles forward instinctively to be involved in whatever has folks massing everywhere. Stepped-on toes earn dull yelps and those who already bask in the sound of the music aren't barely moving at all. They just have the look of concert-goers on their faces amped up to ten, swaying back and forth.

Meggan rubs her hand over her brow after catching herself doing... something. A hard to remember what kind of something, even when she's actively tapping her toe to the beat of Persimmon's bouncy-pop song done mostly acapella. Someone talking to her takes a moment for her to register, though the white noise she's innately sensing causes her to recoil a fraction, turning away to anyone who might smile. "So it's not just an earworm for you too?"

"Oh, I need you here,
On your knees, your eyes shining,
Do you want this moment like I need you,
Am I on your mind when I leave the room? It's true--"

Truly the banal shlock of an evil factory of sound wizards in Sweden or Norway, dragging out those vowels. In the face of that, Meggan's smile fades away into a small, troubled frown. She nods abruptly to Mary. "It's making my head hurt. Not a lot does that, and when it does... tea might not be worth it." The Justice League tends to deal with a wholly different scale, but magic and weirdness are the fae gods' bread and butter. And being one of them, she grabs a napkin dispenser from the counter. No one seems to notice or care. Projectile acquired. "Maybe if we could ask her to stop nicely?"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary gets a bit of a wry look, "I doubt it, but you never know... maybe I could talk, influencer to influencer." She grins a bit at Meggan, then goes and tries to make her way through the crowd towards the improvised stage where Persimmon Gale is set up with her assistant. Not exactly easy going considering more entranced people are coming /in/ and yet no one is really able to leave...

"Oh, hey, Persimmon Gale! Fellow influencer here! Got a minute! Love to ask some questions about your appeal!" Mnemosyne and Athena, meanwhile, are working double-time to keep Mary's mind free of whatever "influence" is permeating that music that the influencer is putting out.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan's social media status isn't small either, but entirely in another realm. The kind that involves environmental activism tends to generate a swell of response politically or socially isn't the same as TikTok videos and likes by the hundreds that way. She doesn't quite recognize Mary; on a name-by-name basis, things might be very different indeed. "I hope you can! She's very disruptive--"

Persimmon is basking in the adulation of singing and a crowd that cares, but unfortunately, all that ends up with her wearing a sour looking expression when Mary wades through. Mnemosyne and Athena -are- awesome in their powers, far more so than a pop chick. She grips the neck of her guitar and tries to keep going, her tone fluctuating a bit when Mary just won't go away and Meggan uses that moment to huck the napkin dispenser at her vibing assistant. The yelp of surprise leads to the assistant flattening back against the table, beaned by a light metal cube. "Heyyy!"

"Go away!" Persimmon hisses, and seeing that's not getting anywhere, she holds up a finger to the camera. "Fanbomb, oh noooo!" Cue plastic smile. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm performing right now. Can we share the love /later/?"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary smiles sweetly, "I dunno, with all the people swarming in here, you think there might be a later Persi? I mean, gosh, I might just be your /biggest/ fan." And she tries to sell the acting a bit, as if the enchantment if that's what it is went sideways on her so she's entranced in an entirely different direction. "I just was hoping I could help with what you got going on." Because sometimes you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Or lobbed napkin containers, either way.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The assistant scowls at the goggle-eyed crowd. A few people near the back end of the line take that moment to find another place to drink, shaking their heads or muttering about lines being too long. They're replaced in short order by the human need to see why a crowd masses, especially seeing the chalkboard signs propped up talking about Persimmon Gale 'live in tiny concert!' and the inevitable social media refrains pushing people here to look and listen. Mostly to listen.

Persimmon is forced to smile at Mary when she clearly doesn't want to. "Fans are so great! Thank you for coming out to support the show. And while that's suuuuper sweet, I've got Alex over here to..." Alex is standing up, the assistant flailing and pulling napkins off themselves. They glare at the line of counter drones, and Meggan gives a pointed stare in return, syrup-bright smile and burning green eyes a beacon for not being totally put out. Or she's drinking Persimmon's irritation; vinegar meets honey Bromfield power there.

"Hey, Siri, *pause!*" The livestream freeze-frames. She hugs her guitar. "Maybe afterward? I need to fix up for the next song and if you want, you can--"

"Whhhaa? Where's my double espresso coconut and oatmilk latte? The HELL, Marcia!" That being a stunned person trying to figure her way out.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins, "... help you use mind control magic with your bad K-pop-knockoff lyrics to entrance people to boost your follower numbers? Though, well, it beats paying for bots, I guess." The honey's gone now as the music's paused, and now it's full force Philly Aggro as Mary hops to the stage, facing off with Persimmon.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan senses that spike of anger and bitterness spilling out where a lot of other emotions are suppressed in the background, and the fae-bright eyes concealed behind a mien of humanity shift markedly into a dangerously green hue. Summer is the realm of the Sidhe, and the sun-hot temper that goes with their pinnacle of battle-readiness and heroism affect even one of the Tuatha de Danaan. Her fingers curl around her hip, and she straightens, mentally yanking on Persimmon's other feelings - anxiety, euphoria, distrust, urgency - to bring something else to the fore.

Persimmon goes from smiling for the cameras to jerking back, holding up her guitar like a weapon or a shield. It's hard to say what. She shoves back off her stool and looks at all the crowd, then Mary looming over her. "I never! It's late 90s to early aughts Europop inspired by way of Ibiza!" Her voice peaks high, shrill, loud. "Oh my -god-, what is wrong with you? I put so much effort into that. I practice every day!"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary snorts, "Oh please! I've heard Muzak with more original content girl! Just repeat something droll and inane enough so you don't think about it and keep it on as background noise for the earworms to slither in unnoticed, right?" She grins a bit, passing a glance over towards Meggan as she seems to be channeling the crowd into something other than apathy and lethargy now that Persimmon isn't playing any longer. "What's the matter, Persi? Am I hitting a bit too close to the mark?"

For the record, Mary isn't advancing /on/ Persimmon any further, but she's on the stage facing her, waiting for the influencer to make the next move.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Persimmon's cheeks flush under white pancake makeup. She throws her guitar aside and pushes off the padded seat, gesturing at Alex. "Take care of all of this. I'm not putting up with being called mean names and bad things. Already get enough of that online." Her eyes squint, wet and lash-limned, as she refuses to cry in front of Mary. "You're a Mean Girl, you know that? None of that is true. I can't--"

Can't fight because the sick swell of fear blossoms in her stomach, anxiety pulled on by Meggan over there, and someone who desperately wants her croissant now. The crowd is coming out from under the effect; without the music to sustain it, it can't keep maintaining itself. Her shoulders slump and Persimmon bolts, heading for the bathroom. It's a very slow run with a lot of people to get through.

True to form, about two minutes after the fact, the weary assistant manager stops washing the same mixer for the nineteenth time to stare at the many people. "What the... we gotta get ready for the church crowd!"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary looks over at Alex, and hmphs a bit, then makes her way over towards Meggan, "Hey, thanks for the assist with that. I don't know what exactly what they were doing but... well, hopefully that puts a crimp in it." She pauses, and grins, "So, don't think we're gonna be getting anything here anytime soon with the crowd. Wanna book and get lunch instead? I know a great place here in Metropolis that does an amazing cheesesteak. Not as good as what you'd find in Philly, but it's still pretty great." With that, the brunette gives Meggan a cheerful grin.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan won't get that croissant, mostly because Stunned Barista #2 wanders hopelessly over to the back door into the stock room and bumps his head on a box. His shift is bound to end up at urgent care, getting the bump iced and a stern talking to about not practicing workplace safety. The assistant manager flails to get people outside and asks several remaining loiterers to go outside with their drinks. Not hard to encourage them if the performance pauses. Alex merely shrivels up inside and complains, "No one appreciates true artistry!"

Yes, well, Alex is a problem for another day. Persimmon crying in the bathroom is so uncool, anyway!

Mary, heroine of the moment, might not have to worry about repercussions except people going past her with side-eye for anyone still in line. Gale's favourite fan? Maybe they won't remember all of that. With that said, Meggan isn't in a rush to stay in line. "The coffee isn't even good here. We could do so much better. Let that be a lesson to you all, find your independent shop and support them. Ciao, Sundollar!" With a wiggle of her fingers, she veers in a beeline for the brunette.