3380/In Need of Hot Joe

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In Need of Hot Joe
Date of Scene: 16 September 2020
Location: Salem Center
Synopsis: Roulette encounters Drake in Salem Center and once again betrays her nature. Damn all you people for rubbing off on her.
Cast of Characters: Drake Riley, Jennifer Stavros




Drake Riley has posed:
Salem Center, a nice little nook in upstate New York, has recently obtained one new face lingering about its streets. And as of today, that face is the freshest it's been in more than a month. Clean, freshened up, hair managed - Drake Riley finally looks like Drake Riley. And given he has somewhere safe to leave things and already has a plan of action, he's left his typical sunglasses, baseball cap, and hoodie back at what he's affectionately referring to as his 'safe house'. It's nice to be outside in the warm weather without sweltering in that formless, shapeless, unseasonal blob of fabric. Granted, he's still stuck wearing the rest of the clothing in his one and only ensemble, which has been through just as much Hell and back as the hoodie. But at least he won't be sweating produsely or forced to wear a cap. No, today? He looks normal.

He just unfortunately smells like the sewer still. God, what unfortunate advice Rogue had given him.

A cellphone is currently in his hand, the current holder of his focus as he sits on a sidewalk bench outside a nice, bustling cafe. He learned his lesson back at Mel's; people don't like him within closed spaces. But finding no message yet on the cellphone, he repockets it with a quiet sigh.

He's disappointed and anxious. But today /feels/ better by a longshot. It's amazing what being cleaned up and fresh can do for someone's outlook. The teen settles into the backrest with a content, idle smile.

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
It may well be that Drake isn't receiving a message for the same reason she's bothering to head for Hot Joe: nobody she cared about was home at the school. No Marie (that girl has gotten terribly distracted lately), no Angelica (even if Jen won't admit to herself that she was hoping to check in on the redhead), no nobody. Most disappointing. But while she's in town she may as well get a cup of coffee.

The blonde's nose curls in disgust as she comes close to the place where Drake is sitting. He's her age, or close enough, but they are a world apart in terms of smell. She smells of Chanel, for what it's worth, but that's neither here nor there. That boy may have had a shower recently -- she wouldn't know -- but his clothes haven't been through the wringer yet. Still, part of her is trying to be a better person. So she doesn't comment. Instead she enters the coffee shop. When she returns a few minutes later she has two drinks in her hands. One is something that probably contains far too much sugar and is piled high with whipped cream. The other is a large cup of coffee. Just coffee. She extends it toward the boy, trying not to show how much the stench is affecting her. "I grabbed some sugar and creamers," she says. "I just figured you might want something to drink."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley has gone, as some call it, 'nose blind' to his own scent. It's unfortunate. But when someone has to live in as long as he has and build a tolerance for street life, the psyche does what it has to to protect itself. But does he take special note of it when Jennifer passes. Plenty of people pass him on the sidewalk, on the street, in the alley - nothing to write home about! They always seem to have that nose-scrunchy face, too.

Either way!

Drake's arms fold behind his head, lips pursing in thought. He should try to do more research on the place that was mentioned; try to prepare. But libraries don't take kindly to him, either. Or they didn't. Now that he's at least looking like a normal person again, he could maybe get away with it-

The blonde has made a return! And she offers a cup his way. Drake is genuinely confused, but he reflexively takes it from her. "Ah- thank you," he says, trying to rein back the uncertainty in his voice. But then the humor finds its way back in: "Holding down a bench is thirsty work. What's your name?"

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Going nose blind to that stink would be a blessing. Jennifer Stavros is not so blessed. And she doesn't intend to spend so much time in the presence of that odor to have the opportunity. A proper dose of luck might prevent her from smelling it, but the only bit of luck she can imagine would involve getting her nose broken -- and that's not the kind of luck she needs.

She takes a few steps back once the coffee is taken, a bit of a wry smile on her face. "Jennifer," she says. "Just one more good Samaritan. The woods are full of them around here. And you are?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"They are? Man, what'm I doing here in the city?," jokes Drake.

Feeling a bit awkward at the positioning different and entirely ignorant of his clothing's condition, he lifts to his feet to even his height with hers. But he doesn't advance on her or anything. That would seem weird. But a pleasant smile is playing on his face, vibrant green eyes settled on her bright blues. "Name's Drake. Drake Riley. Kind'a new in town," he notes. It's not even crossed his mind that he might be sending off homeless vibes still. Insofar, he's pretty sure she's just being remarkably friendly to a stranger. Most New Yorkers wouldn't do this, right? Certainly nothing like this would happen back where he's from, at least.

"You usually just do things to make other people's day a little brighter?"

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
"Not much of a city," Jennifer observes, glancing around. "But I suppose from a certain perspective..." She shrugs and takes a sip of her own drink through the straw suspended in the far-too-thick fluid.

"I went to school near here," she says. "They were all about making things better for everybody, and mostly that's not me. I'm not Miss Nicey Nicey Sugar and Spicey. I don't want to save the world."

And then she heaves a sigh. "But some of that stuff rubs off on the worst of us," she mutters, vaguely disgusted with herself. "So yeah, I'll buy a cup of coffee for a kid who, no offense, smells like he lives in the sewer with the alligators. Somebody has to."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley is all focused and curious about this girl who may not actually be a good samaritan, but plays one from time to time. He's not sure why she'd want him to think less of her, but he'll have to take her word for it. Because so far, she seems fairly nicey nicey sugar and spicey.

Maybe right up until she mentions the scent. But that's not so much on her as it is him. His eyes widen and his mouth opens into a small gap in shock. "What?" His voice is pinched, mortified; odds are, he knows exactly what she's talking about. He just didn't realize it. "Oh god, seriously?" His head tilts sharply downwards to inspect his clothing. It looks... well, rumpled beyond belief, but not grotesque. But the fact that she'd word it so particularly, she couldn't just be being cruel for its own sake. Odds are he stinks.

"Oh crap, I- ah, geeze..." He lifts his head again, eyes uplidding sheepishly. "That's, that's a long story. I had no idea. God, you go around with it so long, you just... stop noticing.." His free hand plants to his face in embarrassment, covering a cheekbone and along his nose.

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jennifer nods without apparent judgment. "Yeah, I get it," she says. "I mean, I am very aware of my own scent -- won't leave the gym without taking a shower even if the place is on fire. But the people I went to school with... enough of them are into saving the world one square inch at a time that they get distracted, don't notice what's going on around them. Same sort of thing, I guess." She glances around, eyes falling on a laundromat. A little smirk crosses her lips. "Okay, Drake. Here's what you're going to do." She retrieves her wallet from her pocket and extracts two bills -- both twenties -- and passes them toward him. "There's a gift shop over there around the corner." She nods in the right direction. "Little tourist place, but they always have some of last year's tee shirts and stuff on sale. So you go get yourself some clean clothes, then take some of the rest of that cash and pass what you've already got on through the laundromat over there. Got it? I don't know whose call you're waiting for, but she's going to be MUCH happier if she shows up and you don't smell like sewage."

Drake Riley has posed:
This is the second time she's alluded to the school she went to, or its student body. Drake intends to ask her about it. But just as he prepares to, she diverts and offers a straight 40. Nonplussed, he takes the two bills into his free hand and stares at it while she explains the battle strategy. He could take the money and actually eat like a normal person for a couple days, too. But that feels dishonest. If she's giving it to him for this purpose, then willpower will have to win out in the end. He'll use it for that which it was intended. No matter how embarrassing this situation has become.

"Y- yeah," he says awkwardly. "That's.. maybe a good idea."

His gaze lifts to her again. "Where can I find you to pay you back?" His head quickly cants. "Serious about that, I wanna pay you back." He was so, /so/ close to not being a charity case. It's a little painful to be knocked back down again, even if unintentionally. She's being nice, in her increasingly abrupt way. He appreciates it. But he needs to start earning his dignity back.

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Truly, Jennifer figures that he can spend maybe $20 on the clothes and laundry. Three-year-old souvenir shorts are not precisely top of the line. That will leave him enough to get a meal or two in him. And now she does something she doesn't even believe -- she actually touches his shoulder. To be fair, it's only to do something she can't do where others, even Drake, can see -- she's conjuring a white orb to her hand and pushing it directly into him. If anybody ever needed enough luck to get through a few days, it's this kid.

"Don't worry about paying it back," she says, leaving her hand there for a count of five and not jerking it away as fast as she might like -- though she'll be going right back into Hot Joe to wash thoroughly once he's gone off to get new clothes and get clean. "Pay it forward. Always opportunities for that, and a lot of them aren't expensive. If we run into each other down the road, you can buy me a cup of coffee. I come up here now and again, but I live in the city. I just come to visit old friends."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley certainly wasn't expecting physical contact, all things considered. He'd probably have avoided it, himself. It's not that he grudges or faults anyone for looking down on him in his current state. It's that being in his current state sucks a lot.

He puffs a mild sigh as she says the very thing he was hoping to avoid. Of course. 'Pay it forward'. Everyone says that. He thinks he's an alright guy already. He sticks his neck out for people when he finds them. But he wanted to pay her back. But as it appears, finding her again may require a bit of... well, luck.

Naturally, Drake is unaware of such strangeness impact him, or cosmically altering his fate, whatever it may be. He just gives her a mildly disappointed look, lips twisting. "I'm gonna try to find you," he notes. It's important to him that he stop racking up debts, even if he's the only one counting them. "But.. thanks. I'm gonna go on, so this... isn't... a thing anymore," he says, glancing down to indicate his persistently smelly attire. But he isn't going straight there. No, he's collecting that thrice-damned hoodie and cap to toss in.

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
As far as Jen is concerned, 'pay it forward' doesn't imply he's a bad guy. Just means that she doesn't need to be paid back, but somebody else is likely to need his help. "Yeah, sure," she says. "I go to NYU. Thursday evenings I'm in the drama department. Or ask anybody where Xavier's is and tell somebody there you're leaving ten bucks for me." She shrugs. "Or give it to the next kid you meet who needs it, 'cause I'm fine, Drake, and I can say with all confidence that this is going to be a good week for you." She flashes a wry grin. "I know luck."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Xavier's?" Drake's eyebrow lifts, pausing his intended exit. Does he pursue that nugget, or grant her a merciful exit? Maybe being merciful would be the first step in paying her back.

"Luck, or serendipity," he concludes with a budding, cagey smile. "I guess if that's how it is, we'll just have to see how the week pans out. In the meantime," he lifts the two 20s, "thanks, Jennifer. It's going to good use. And I'd say more than likely contributing to some good fortune."

Eyes widen, and he quickly adds, "I did /not/ mean that to sound like I was gonna go buy lottery tickets. In case it did. Yikes."

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jen smirks. "I mean, don't buy more than one," she says. "In a row. That gets too much attention. But, you know, go ahead and go for a small local lottery. You'll do fine." A shrug. "Xavier's is the place where I went to school around here." She gestures off away from town. "Nice place. Good people. A little too goody-two-shoes sometimes." She takes a step back and adds, "You're welcome. Don't tell anybody. It'll destroy my reputation."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley blinks at her once. She makes it tempting to get a lottery ticket, actually. But he shouldn't do that. He badly, desperately needs to be wise with his next steps and not screw up what seems like his best shot at having the future he wanted.

...Maybe after the laundry, he'll try one.

"Xavier's is the place I was told to go. Where I'll be getting a call from." Or to tell him it's time to come over. He isn't sure. All he knows is he's waiting on a call or text. "But don't worry about the reputation." His head cants to her, his gaze turning a little more meaningful. "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."

Jennifer Stavros has posed:
And if he's waiting for a call from Xavier's, she knows exactly what secret he's keeping. She nods her understanding. "In that case, your luck's already changing. I -am- a graduate, after all. I know these things." She flashes him one more grin, slurps down the rest of her coffee concoction. "Go. Get yourself cleaned up. In a couple of days you're gonna have all the awesome clothes you need. I'll see if I can get somebody I know to give you a hand or something. Most of 'em don't like me all that much, but we do help our own." The cup is tossed toward the bin. "Gotta get back to the city," she says. "My roommate's gone and gotten herself caught up in something that doesn't involve paying the rent, so I need to deal with that. You do well, Drake."

Drake Riley has posed:
The way she phrases things, the way she nods, Drake's fairly certain the report he got from Rogue is accurate. If Jennifer is a mutant, Xavier's would have to be a safe place for them. It passes the logic and scrutiny test. He didn't really doubt her to begin with, but everything pointing to the positive is bolstering.

"I'm gonna," he replies, to both sentiments. "And it was nice meetin' you, Jennifer." He's already started walking backwards. He nearly bumps into someone behind him, only he naturally spins around to face the proper direction at the very last moment. The pivot neatly places him out of the path of the collision. And the potential victim is busy thumbing through a newspaper, completely unaware of all of it.

Such luck.