Cold coffee Who: Caspian Finn & Cordelia Beck What: Getting coffee & realizing opposition When: Feb. 28 #tbt very early Where: A coffee shop Rating: Mid - some heated words Status: Complete
”I know my rose will dry upon the skin,
just like a name I remember hearing,
Wild winter, warm coffee
Mind's gone, do you love me?”
Not a lot of people walked around anywhere at 5:30 in the morning, but Beck did. Beck knew that if she was there at the crack of down at the coffee shop just around the corner from her home that there would be the least amount of people there, and she could enjoy a fresh cup of coffee and the atmosphere for approximately 28 minutes before the rush game in to grab their morning coffee before work. She had it all planned out, and it had become routine at this point. Second nature.
"Good morning!" Called out as she walked into coffee shop, the usual morning crew's faces greeting her with their customary smile, a wave, and a few scattered Hey, Beck"!'s. It felt nice to know that most of them were genuinely happy to see her, they weren't just being nice because it was their job. Stepping up to the counter, she didn't even have to ask for her drink - she just pulled out the cash and swapped it for an already made flat white and a warm croissant. She thanked the barista by name, before taking her usual seat by the window.
Tablet in hand, newspaper open beside her, and the croissant lying precariously on her leg, she went about her morning not expecting to see or feel anyone not already working there. A nice, peaceful morning with a tired work crew who had generally positive but muted feelings this early in the morning. With a smile on her face, she tackled creating her to-do list for the day.
The day was as bright as it was cold. Those clad in toboggans and winter-ready parkas paraded down the snow settled streets. Fog erupted from the sewer manes as if the very heart of the city were clamoring for as much attention as the powdery mix dancing along in the wind. Red cheeks, bright eyes. The day was met with promise in spite of the dreary and bleak that winter often brought.
Abound and eager to begin the day, Caspian pressed a forearm upon the bar to the door and with a sigh of relief he wandered into the warmth.
Above the door the bell chimed its merry song in greeting. He didn’t pay it much mind in favor of what lay ahead mere steps from where he stood. With two steps, and then three and four he met the back of the line.
Caitlyn had used up the last of the beans he had been saving and unaware of the jar being empty Caspian realized not forty minutes ago of his predicament. Tea had been a large part of his upbringing (at his Mum’s insistence) and yet the draw was there for coffee.
A sweet mixture of percolating Columbian and Kenyan brews touched the deepest parts of his senses.
When you ran your own business making your own hours was commonplace. His morning started whenever he wanted it to, sun up or sun down.
Gloves would come off easily.
Most would pay no heed to the silver ring which encircled the thumb on his left hand which bore the sign for the planet Pluto. It was a symbol so commonplace that detection to anything more was usually nil.
With a measure of patience the blue-eyed devil stood, shoving the now empty gloves into a pocket of his coat lest he lose them in the heat of the moment.
“Next,” came the chime from the young, pretty barista beyond the worn wooden counter.
A step forward and he was that much closer to heaven.
It was almost time to go. Every time that little bell rang, Beck could feel the air getting heavier. The room getting smaller. Her breath getting shorter. It was oppressing.
Tablet pushed back into her purse, croissant’s crumpled napkin resting easily on the lip of the table in front of her, the last few sips of her coffee taken before she made her way back up to the line again.
A gentlemen with dark hair, potentially taller than she was when she didn’t have heels on, stood in front of her in line. Attractive, she saw the flash of blue eyes as she approached the line from the side of the store, ready to take her second cup to go. Her eyes followed the length of his sleeve, catching a flash of silver on his hand.
Initial thought; married. Then, the realization it was on the wrong finger for that, soft brown eyes taking in the markings on the ring, the symbol - Pluto. Oh, shit, pluto. Beck’s neck whipped back up as she attempted to recognize the man in front of her - had they met before? Had they faced off against each other? Would he recognize her? Feeling the atmosphere, Beck could tell - he wasn’t here to cause trouble, not yet.
Maybe this wasn’t a man who was part of Chrysalis at all. Maybe he just liked the pluto symbol.
Public places weren’t favorites of his; he did not have a favorite restaurant, coffee shop haunt, movie theater, bookstore, etc. People tended to recall others and he preferred privacy, sparsity. Being forgotten was the name of the game. It was how he’d earned that codename and the fear it elicited murmured from the lips of the shadows.
He knew he didn’t look like much, just an ordinary fellow standing around for coffee, but lately things tended to be more than they appeared. Mutants came in all varieties and so he always took cautionary measures no matter where he was. Before he left the coffee shop, for instance, no one there would remember him at all. That was the way he liked it.
Caspian cleared his throat, lifting his gaze to the person standing before him. Only two warm bodies ahead. He could have made them move aside if he had wanted to - he could’ve been a king had that been on his agenda - but he waited instead.
Something murky began to settle into his mind. Someone was in distress, or it felt that way. A bit of mental flailing. He was guarded always from intrusion but now and then something crept over him when he lost focus.
With interest he turned around to find the source of the mental fluttering and there he noticed a striking brunette. There was nothing about her out of the ordinary beyond that bit of something he could touch upon. The source of that energy he wasn’t sure about as nothing particularly threatening was making itself known. But then again he wasn’t so paranoid that Eleos would pop out of every nook and cranny, or burst of sunshine, and get him. Assumptions were simply that she was experiencing something that he could not pinpoint yet.
The glance wss quick, polite even, before he was turning back to the task ahead.
Only one person left.
Something was interesting to him. She felt that ping of curiosity, and he turned to glance at her. Wow. Why did he bad guys always have to be so attractive? There was a small part of her that was hoping he just liked the Pluto symbol. Definitely not Chrysalis. Just a cool, attractive guy with a thing for silver thumb rings. Maybe he didn’t even know what the symbol was.
Stepping up in the line, she cleared her throat and did her best to calm herself. It was always difficult once people were on the scene, but she was pretty good at just feeling the emotions and letting them go through her, as opposed to affecting her. Changing her. She let them swirl around her like a flurry of snow and pass right by. A deep breath in, a slow exhale.
“Bit cold this morning, isn’t it?” Eyes open, calm restored. She was confident in her own ability to defend herself should that become necessary, and this man felt very self-controlled. Perhaps he carried himself a bit pompously, but then what attractive man didn’t?
Scarf was carefully tucked back behind her shoulder, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, watching him carefully. “You don’t come here often. That’s not an accusation, just an observation. Are you new in town?”
That bit of nagging was faint but it lingered and he was not in favor of it at all. Again he reached out and silently touched and the edges of her mind, probing for any trails of information he could pick up. Those not used to such a thing would find it odd but not necessarily uncomfortable though he lingered no more than a moment. It was unsettling, the unease. Long ago he had learned to drown out the multitudes of voices, now he could pinpoint a single mind in a crowd if he wanted to.
“Ah, but the cold compliments the snow,” Caspian mused in reply. “Would be odd if it was snowing without the chill.”
Again he turned to peer over his shoulder to find that the woman from a moment ago was now standing behind him in line.
At her observation he replied with a simple shrug, “I prefer to make my coffee at home. It seems I was out this morning unexpectedly and so I came here.” Who indulged someone with an assurance that a comment was not an accusation if that wasn’t warranted?
“Not new. Long time resident, actually. Yourself?” It was polite conversation to cover all of the bases of normal appearance even though now he had grown a bit suspicious.
“Hm, you never know. Could be nice.” Beck was testing the emotional waters here, paying close attention to how he felt during the conversation. Fine, really, maybe a touch of annoyance? Or was that suspicion? It was so faint she couldn’t quite tell, not particularly surface. She’d have to dig deeper if she really wanted to know - which wasn’t something Beck generally liked to do.
Feelings were private, after all. Just because she could feel them, didn’t mean she should.
“If you’re the first customer of the day here, you get a solid twenty-eight minutes before other customers start to arrive to be totally alone. Then I grab a second cub to go. Pretty much the only place I frequent at all. I’m typically more a homebody. Don’t like crowds.” She offered. Most people were like that, though. Most mutants, anyway. Crowds were a problem for a lot of people.
Long time resident, not surprising really. There were hundreds of thousands of people who had lived in and around the area she’d never met before. That was the nature of New York, really. “You like it here, then? New York is pretty great. I’ve only been here a few years.” She supplied, her tone indicating she was happy with the move, though her thoughts strayed. Pennsylvania. Black site. Spider program. She wiped the thoughts from her head as quickly as they came. She didn’t know what this guy could do yet, she didn’t want to give a lot away.
The idea of snow without cold was odd. Different. Would it be like the summer and the beach? Would you feel nothing at all? Would the snow even be cold if the weather was not? It seemed like a fantasy as opposed to reality but then again he wasn’t much of a dreamer. It was something to consider for later, maybe.
Advice given, usually, was not taken but this type of comment was intriguing. She seemed to be offering something with that morsel, an invitation perhaps? Letting in on ones secret for prime time coffee acquisition he felt was something shared between people more than strangers first meeting.
He shelved it away for later.
“That was kind of you to share,” he managed, stepping forward to take his place at the counter.
“Just a medium drip coffee of your house blend, please.” And with the transaction completed - cash always - he was stepping aside to let the intriguing, petite brunette stranger put in her second order.
“New York is not as awful as a lot of people perceive.” He quite liked the hustle and bustle, it was easier to get lost in a crowd that way.
His hands went into the pockets of his coat as he stood there, waiting for his coffee. He watched her as she ordered though in a simple manner which would allow any outside observer to conclude they’d been conversing prior.
Anyone who came into the store early would see Beck there, and on occasion she did get the few early morning risers who needed to grab a cub, typically to go. No one came in as early as she did as often as she did, though.
“Friendly tip of the day. Be the first customer if you want to avoid a crowd. Generally speaking.” She shrugged, unconcerned with the tidbit shared. Beck knew she could defend herself if she had to - it didn’t trouble her that someone might know she’d be here often.
Medium drip coffee - practical, but perhaps a bit ‘higher end.’ It didn’t necessarily indicate someone who was picky about having the finer things, but someone who didn’t come to a coffee shop to get what they brewed in bulk. It was a good choice.
“Medium flat white to go, please.” Her initial cup was placed on the counter so they’d save the trouble of having to pick it up where she’d been sitting before, and she paid - also in cash, and a dollar was left in the tip jar.
Beck was a coffee lover of all types, though flat whites had started becoming popular and she had to admit a small preference for the drink over any type of regular coffee. She’d switch to her normal brew at work, but when she was out, it was flat white all the way.
“I find there’s two perceptions of New York - people either think it’s exciting and busy or dangerous and overcrowded. Not a whole lot of in between opinions.” She stepped aside, towards him in the queue waiting for their drinks to be finished. Again, she glanced down at his ring, still wondering if they’d met before. He didn’t seem to recognize her, and she couldn’t place him one bit.
“Anyway, I’m sure you’re busy and just trying to grab your morning coffee. Sorry to bother. It was nice chatting with you.”
Usually with the ladies he tended to be a touch more eager to chat and personable but that hesitation and floundering earlier had sent up a spark. Otherwise he would have eased into conversation as one would slip comfortably into a warm tub of bath water.
For all of his faults he remained personable; some of those in his organization were hardened, protective, fake. He tended to lean the other way when it came to some things from higher up - he did not believe in flat out genocide for example - but he was absolutely not a nice person. Considerate, polite, observant.
“I find you’re correct,” he replied, nodding at her. “Though in my personal opinion I can attest that I feel it’s a perfect mixture of both of those observations. A perfect storm, if you will. I suppose that is what makes the city so intriguing. The peppering of excitement and danger amidst the bustling populous.”
His drink was set down. A soft coaxing from the barista in a sing-song of his name ”Caspian” and he was easing forward casually toward her. A hand slid out of a pocket, the left one with the ring, and he fetched up the warm up. A wink to the young woman coupled with a smile enough to make the barista swoon and he pivoted. A few steps of retreat and the young woman behind the counter had already forgotten all about him.
“Indeed, it was quite pleasant hearing your thoughts about New York. I hope whatever brought you here serves to be what you wanted it to be.” Chasing the morning was often not always as as promising as it wanted to be.
His gaze lifted beyond the woman to the door as it opened. An unfamiliar person strode through, tall and thin with half of his head shaved in spite of the blistering cold. Skin was clearly marked with the symbol of Chrysalis. They seemed to find each other and a call from the shaved headed man rang out with delight. Caspian smiles and offered the reply for his faction without a shred of hesitation before his gaze fell back to the woman he’d been conversing with.
“If you would excuse me then, miss. The day continues to call and answer it I must.”
He seemed friendly enough. But then, everyone trying to hide who they were seemed friendly enough at first. This Caspian could be a complete psychopath for all she knew, though, to be fair, the few psychopaths she'd encountered had a very different set of emotional levels. They weren't hidden. They were just... empty, really. Caspian was level, but not empty. At least from what she could feel in this brief encounter.
The recognition did not go unnoticed, and Beck's eyes raised to greet the Chrysalis tattoo of the other gentlemen. The call back and forth, familiar in a nagging dejavu kind of way. She didn't know it, but she could swear she'd heard it before. Was that a thing? Tasting the air, the mood in the room had switched a little with the addition to more conspiratorial - still, not quite coming off of Caspian but off the new fellow who'd walked in.
"I'm sure something more than the day is calling to you." She said, this time the accusation in her voice clear. I knew it she thought, pointedly looking down at his ring and then towards the tattooed man who'd come through the door. She was outnumbered now, which didn't suit her at all. She wasn't afraid, but calculating. Logical. It wouldn't due to pick a fight here, and she did actually like this coffee shop. Probably not a great idea to cause any chaos in it.
"Very nice meeting you, Caspian. You know... if you ever want to change the path you're on - " She said, the latter spoken very quietly as she took just a small step towards him, her head tilted in his direction. "You know where to find me."
It was an exchange on par with waving hello, tossing over a verbal greeting. During their strenuous training those inducted into the ranks were instructed specifics in the calls and greetings - Caspian was no small fish in that ocean. The Revolution was scarce, mostly unknown, and he liked it that way. Flying under the radar kept his family safe.
The accusation caused a narrowing of his eyes. The suspicion was there - could this woman be of the opposition? She dared to challenge him here in the open though subtly. Ah, she was brave. But patience was a virtue he lived by, she would expose herself in time for what she truly was.
Her praising, the bit about changing his path earned a scoff coupled with an eye roll. “The day I find myself in need of a lifestyle change I shall look to someone older and wiser,” he chided softly, slipping past her.
No desire there was to brawl here; the less public the episode the better. They could wage a war of words on a different turf if they crossed paths again. A strong if considering the multitudes of people and mutants alike in the city.
This time he began to step around her heading for the door. He could already sense the eyes of the fellow he’d responded to watching the pair of them. Chrysalis was full of reckless, brazen mutants some of who would die for those higher in rank without a command. He wasn’t searching for that here.
For later reference he tucked this deep into his mind. Angel and Vivian needed to know about this one, she could be trouble.
Ah, she'd got to him. The scoff, the eye roll. He was feeling something akin to protective, perhaps of himself, or his secrets? He closed right off, and that was all the she needed to know. She was right, and both of these men were members of Chrysalis. She did her best to burn their faces into her mind. Maybe her fellow Eleos members knew more about them.
"You don't have to be old to be wise." She quipped, the grin on her face spreading. It was true - part of the reason she was so good at her job is though people could hide things from themselves, ignore their feelings, they were still there. She could feel them. She knew when people were wanting to change, she could feel where their insecurities lie even if they didn't know it. Even a simple conversation could give her much more information than anyone intended.
Caspian obviously did not want anything to go down at the moment, and was readying to leave. Well, at least she'd offered. It wasn't as if she couldn't understand why Chrysalis existed, what they did what they did. She'd suffered long enough at the hands of humans just for being a mutant. She'd been ripped from her life as just a child, from everything she had known simply because of how she was born. Still, there were better ways to change the world than violence. Someday, she hoped, she'd get them all to change their minds.
"Have a lovely day, Caspian. It was very nice meeting you." Flat white for Beck, her favorite barista called out, and she finally turned away from both Chrysalis men, though carefully feeling the air for any change from either of them. Just in case.
“You’re correct, you don’t,” he began, eyebrows arching a touch, “But accepting life advice from someone like you who bases her perspective of someone based upon assumptions probably isn’t the smartest move. Old, young, darling, age is but a number. It’s how you use your brain that makes all of the difference.”
With that concluded, he offered nothing that might resemble pleasantries upon exit. He was hardly rattled by her, she was but a child and he a pawn in a larger game. He only controlled what he could, the world did the rest (it did what it wanted anyway).
He slipped out into the cold and the chime above the door bade it’s musical farewell, sending him off with a warm sound and promises of more to come.