Artie & Alani | Bar Talk
Feb. 28th, 2022 12:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsArtie runs into Alani at bar, where she's gone to drink and process.
Alani had meant to sit at the mansion with her head buried in the sand until the entire Winter Olympics had blown over. So, of course, the universe had other plans and she'd ended up at a bar in District X with at least two of their tvs running coverage about the skater, what it meant for the sport, and where they might go from there. It all made her feel like she was underwater, and she turned to find the bartender in hopes of getting a second drink while she was still nursing her first. It took her a moment to recognize another patron from the mansion... Artie, that was it. Raising her glass, she motioned to the seat beside her. "Buy you a drink?"
He gave a quick wave and nodded, pointing to one of the beers on tap as he came up beside her. He was - technically - off work at last but, the way things had been lately, that didn't mean much, because he still had hours to go when he either went back to the brownstone or ... hell, it could wait till tomorrow, really. Alani looked haunted. The image of the skater was replaced by two pundits explaining how this was going to ruin women's sports. She'd been an athlete or something, hadn't she? He accepted the beer and eyed one of the smaller tables in the corner and gestured at it.
Following his line of sight, she nodded and stood. "Yeah, that seems like a better spot." And she wouldn't stare blankly at the tv from that angle or with another person, though that seemed like a stupid thing to admit. Behind them, the angry commentator who’d been reiterating the responsibility of the poor kid to bow out of what she’d been training for her whole life because of her genetics still droned on. “You made some good points,” she admitted. “About human society and our place in it. Which is pretty shitty, innit?”
Artie shrugged, deliberately taking the seat with the view of the screens. How he spoke - the language, the means - was always considered. This wasn't a mutant-only bar. They didn't exist these days but it was mutant friendly, where that meant a few visibles, a few human groupies and some sometimes weird vibes. Could Alani even hold a conversation in ASL? He carried two synthesisers most of the time these days - the tiny one he wore at collar height and a larger, phone sized one. Both parsed text that he projected into them. He laid the larger one out on the table and replied through it, "Well, you know, humans. They don't want us." The tone in the voice it generated was dry.
She blinked at the synthesiser, sitting up a little straighter and moving her drinks back, erring on caution rather than making a total ass of herself if she were to splash liquor. Of course, she could make a point that some humans were accepting, good even if she wanted to pull in a dichotomy. Her parents, for instance, had thought they were doing right by her and keeping her safe when they'd asked her to lie publicly. But that wasn't every human interaction she'd ever faced, and it wasn't what other mutants who had more visible mutations than her markings had been forced to deal with. "Loud ones will likely demand our removal forever. And, well, we can't really ever be equal, can we?" She asked to hear it outloud, to see how it felt. Mostly she felt like shit, so she took another swig. "Can I ask a weird question?"
He shrugged, nodding and gesturing "go ahead". He wasn't going to give her more than that, until he knew what the question was.
"How would you have it?" She motioned rather loosely around them. "This, us, as mutants. It's a thought experiment, so, no bars. Because some days I think I really hate humans and just want to have some place where we... could be left alone." Remembering a news story she'd heard once, though, she laughed bitterly. "But, I mean, being from two colonized people who'd just been on islands, minding their own damn business, it doesn't always work."
Artie shook his head. "Some of my contacts and acquaintances have given up on human society. It's a nice idea, sure. You don't have to constantly manage their expectations, you know? I would really appreciate not having to deal with human bullshit all the damn time." He drummed his fingers against the table. "Does ... everything else come with, though? Like, sure, if you don't have to deal with human bullshit and you go back home, do you have to deal with white bullshit? It's not like pākehā all do the right thing."
That pulled a grin from Alani, and she rested her chin on her hand. "Ah, asking the real questions, eh cuz?" She hummed lightly in thought. "Ideally, no, and at least some pākehā, some haole, recognize that it is bullshit. I know it sounds soppy, but I do like to think the inherent racism that goes hand-in-hand with colonialism could be no more. It wouldn’t take away what’s happened already, but for the next generation to not experience it is... a nice thought. And here I am going to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.” With a snort, she emptied her glass and set it aside. “So what do you think, for this hypothetical are we keeping everything else?”
He shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know. I don't want to end up like, having to do subsistence farming or anything. I just." He stopped and projected his text into the air, rather than the synthesiser. "I don't know, okay. I can't even imagine a world without human bullshit. I mean, I'm so used to it, I'm managing how I talk in a bar that's mostly mutant friendly." He was disgusted with himself. Anyway, if it was an issue, he could manage himself.
She reached out, for a moment planning to touch him in some semblance of reassurance, before setting her hand back on the table. She didn't know him really, and while she might be touchy feely, she knew damn well that didn't mean other people were. Clearing her throat, she instead did her best attempt at sounding calm and totally not tipsy. "I don't know is a perfectly acceptable answer. It's a hard fucking question, so many things go into our existences, and I'm sorry. I'm throwing this all at you at a fucking bar. That's my bad, I just can talk for fucking ages if people let me, and sometimes it's just, like, thinking outloud. So, I'm sorry."
Artie shrugged uncomfortably. "No, I just. Look, I just got a new asshole torn into me at work because I'm seen as anti human." He moved to switch to ASL and stopped. Alani probably couldn't sign or at least, not well enough for this. He returned to running text along the table, very Star Wars opening sequence. "It's a thing." He grimaced. "This - all of this - is a world built for humans. End of the day, everything here, everything we do is about that. I acknowledge the need to work within human systems but."
Artie paused again. "I'm not an activist. The work we do at Snow Valley is really targeted. But my best friend when I was a kid was rescued from a carnival freak show." He took a sip of his beer. "Everything we do, everything we are, is in relation to the fact that we don't matter at an individual level but do matter at a species level. If we can't be used, we're thrown away and if we can be used, we're destroyed before they decide we're not compliant. I don't even know what that skater's powers are, you know? Or if they impact her sport but it doesn't matter, because she's banned before she can even start. I don't know what we could be, as a species, because we've never had a chance to even look at the limits of what we can do."
Alani blinked at him for a moment, eyes darting to his hands when they'd begun to move before focusing back on the words he’d been projecting. "Well..."And now she had to really think about those questions and their continued space in human society. Maybe a little more than that, the thought of a child raised in a freak show and the implication that the girl's X-gene might have an impact on her sport.
Alani didn't like where her mind went, so she reached for her second drink and took a slow sip as she recollected herself. "Right, well, as the late and great said, 'all exploited peoples are justified in feeling hostile and resentful toward those who exploit them.' On a use 'em and lose 'em standing, I'll be the first to admit that my only redeeming trait back before I got doxed was that I'm, well, hot. My markings add some weird, fucked up excoticism so they let me speak, but that I'm also," she paused to lower her voice again. "A living chainsaw really subtracted from the vision of a fuckable Polynesian mutant. I don't know what our limits as a species are either. I'd love to see what could be built, but aside from children being able to go to school with their peers without fear, I can't even imagine what it could be, honestly. And I'm getting a little tired of just wanting crumbs."
He nodded again. "Yeah. I think, if I could do anything, I'd want to identify mutants before they manifest, give them. I don't know. Support. Understanding. But that's real close to what the Australians do." He continued, quickly, providing the explanation, "they test for common gene clusters in their public health programs. It's pretty close to mandatory, is, for migrants. They don't let you come in with those gene clusters, even if they're latent, same as if you were disabled. Kids identified get 'support' but really, a lot of them end up in detention camps on Nauru or in the desert."
"That's good, that would be helpful, assuming they're not coming outta the womb with a visible mutation." The words were distant even to her own ears as she focused on not having an entirely emotional reaction and keeping herself from going through anything. “I didn’t know, about Australia. It’s pretty much the next door neighbor of where I’m from and I didn’t know that. Have you- Fuck. I’ve been so focused I haven’t looked into overseas lately aside from what’s put in front of me. How long has that been going on?”
Shit. "Ten, twelve years, I think? It's not something they advertise but Australia's a safe place. Not many mutants in the community, you know? and the ones that are, are safe. No one has to worry about things like mutant problems there." Artie's mouth twisted. He shook his head and switched back to the synthesiser, saying "Hey, hey, it's all right. It's all right. Tell me if we need to leave, okay?" Could you touch Alani when she was spacing out or would she phase through you? Better not. Better not touch the table, either, just in case. "I need you to focus back here, okay? It's all right."
"No. Sorry. Yes, it's - I'm sorry." It came out a little rushed, but her eyes snapped back up to him, hands clasping together in front of her as she took a few deep breaths. "I am okay and in control. Sorry, I promise, I haven't gotten this far by having a public blow up, and I'm not going to start today." Especially with someone else nearby. "I feel like I'm apologizing a lot, so I'm gonna put a stop to that, and instead say - that's fucked, really hate that I'm only learning this now, but nothing I can do for the past."
Artie gave her a half smile. "It's fine. Look, if you do have a public blow up and shred a table or something, no one really gets hurt and Snow Valley sends them $500 from the making friends fund. No big deal." No one else in the bar was really paying them attention, anyway. "It is fucked, though. Mutant politics are always fucked."
“As tempting as throwing other people’s money at a problem I’ve created because I’m dramatic might be.” Alani snorted, grin ticking up for a moment before she shook her head. Reaching back for her drink she gently tapped it against his beer. “Mutant politics are fucked. I don’t know why I fucking cheersed that, but here we are. At this point, I truly hope I’m the worst ‘met at a bar drinking person’ you’ve met at a bar. Or who’s bought you a drink, I guess.”
"Have you met the people we live around? You've got a long way to go before you're there."
Alani had meant to sit at the mansion with her head buried in the sand until the entire Winter Olympics had blown over. So, of course, the universe had other plans and she'd ended up at a bar in District X with at least two of their tvs running coverage about the skater, what it meant for the sport, and where they might go from there. It all made her feel like she was underwater, and she turned to find the bartender in hopes of getting a second drink while she was still nursing her first. It took her a moment to recognize another patron from the mansion... Artie, that was it. Raising her glass, she motioned to the seat beside her. "Buy you a drink?"
He gave a quick wave and nodded, pointing to one of the beers on tap as he came up beside her. He was - technically - off work at last but, the way things had been lately, that didn't mean much, because he still had hours to go when he either went back to the brownstone or ... hell, it could wait till tomorrow, really. Alani looked haunted. The image of the skater was replaced by two pundits explaining how this was going to ruin women's sports. She'd been an athlete or something, hadn't she? He accepted the beer and eyed one of the smaller tables in the corner and gestured at it.
Following his line of sight, she nodded and stood. "Yeah, that seems like a better spot." And she wouldn't stare blankly at the tv from that angle or with another person, though that seemed like a stupid thing to admit. Behind them, the angry commentator who’d been reiterating the responsibility of the poor kid to bow out of what she’d been training for her whole life because of her genetics still droned on. “You made some good points,” she admitted. “About human society and our place in it. Which is pretty shitty, innit?”
Artie shrugged, deliberately taking the seat with the view of the screens. How he spoke - the language, the means - was always considered. This wasn't a mutant-only bar. They didn't exist these days but it was mutant friendly, where that meant a few visibles, a few human groupies and some sometimes weird vibes. Could Alani even hold a conversation in ASL? He carried two synthesisers most of the time these days - the tiny one he wore at collar height and a larger, phone sized one. Both parsed text that he projected into them. He laid the larger one out on the table and replied through it, "Well, you know, humans. They don't want us." The tone in the voice it generated was dry.
She blinked at the synthesiser, sitting up a little straighter and moving her drinks back, erring on caution rather than making a total ass of herself if she were to splash liquor. Of course, she could make a point that some humans were accepting, good even if she wanted to pull in a dichotomy. Her parents, for instance, had thought they were doing right by her and keeping her safe when they'd asked her to lie publicly. But that wasn't every human interaction she'd ever faced, and it wasn't what other mutants who had more visible mutations than her markings had been forced to deal with. "Loud ones will likely demand our removal forever. And, well, we can't really ever be equal, can we?" She asked to hear it outloud, to see how it felt. Mostly she felt like shit, so she took another swig. "Can I ask a weird question?"
He shrugged, nodding and gesturing "go ahead". He wasn't going to give her more than that, until he knew what the question was.
"How would you have it?" She motioned rather loosely around them. "This, us, as mutants. It's a thought experiment, so, no bars. Because some days I think I really hate humans and just want to have some place where we... could be left alone." Remembering a news story she'd heard once, though, she laughed bitterly. "But, I mean, being from two colonized people who'd just been on islands, minding their own damn business, it doesn't always work."
Artie shook his head. "Some of my contacts and acquaintances have given up on human society. It's a nice idea, sure. You don't have to constantly manage their expectations, you know? I would really appreciate not having to deal with human bullshit all the damn time." He drummed his fingers against the table. "Does ... everything else come with, though? Like, sure, if you don't have to deal with human bullshit and you go back home, do you have to deal with white bullshit? It's not like pākehā all do the right thing."
That pulled a grin from Alani, and she rested her chin on her hand. "Ah, asking the real questions, eh cuz?" She hummed lightly in thought. "Ideally, no, and at least some pākehā, some haole, recognize that it is bullshit. I know it sounds soppy, but I do like to think the inherent racism that goes hand-in-hand with colonialism could be no more. It wouldn’t take away what’s happened already, but for the next generation to not experience it is... a nice thought. And here I am going to the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.” With a snort, she emptied her glass and set it aside. “So what do you think, for this hypothetical are we keeping everything else?”
He shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know. I don't want to end up like, having to do subsistence farming or anything. I just." He stopped and projected his text into the air, rather than the synthesiser. "I don't know, okay. I can't even imagine a world without human bullshit. I mean, I'm so used to it, I'm managing how I talk in a bar that's mostly mutant friendly." He was disgusted with himself. Anyway, if it was an issue, he could manage himself.
She reached out, for a moment planning to touch him in some semblance of reassurance, before setting her hand back on the table. She didn't know him really, and while she might be touchy feely, she knew damn well that didn't mean other people were. Clearing her throat, she instead did her best attempt at sounding calm and totally not tipsy. "I don't know is a perfectly acceptable answer. It's a hard fucking question, so many things go into our existences, and I'm sorry. I'm throwing this all at you at a fucking bar. That's my bad, I just can talk for fucking ages if people let me, and sometimes it's just, like, thinking outloud. So, I'm sorry."
Artie shrugged uncomfortably. "No, I just. Look, I just got a new asshole torn into me at work because I'm seen as anti human." He moved to switch to ASL and stopped. Alani probably couldn't sign or at least, not well enough for this. He returned to running text along the table, very Star Wars opening sequence. "It's a thing." He grimaced. "This - all of this - is a world built for humans. End of the day, everything here, everything we do is about that. I acknowledge the need to work within human systems but."
Artie paused again. "I'm not an activist. The work we do at Snow Valley is really targeted. But my best friend when I was a kid was rescued from a carnival freak show." He took a sip of his beer. "Everything we do, everything we are, is in relation to the fact that we don't matter at an individual level but do matter at a species level. If we can't be used, we're thrown away and if we can be used, we're destroyed before they decide we're not compliant. I don't even know what that skater's powers are, you know? Or if they impact her sport but it doesn't matter, because she's banned before she can even start. I don't know what we could be, as a species, because we've never had a chance to even look at the limits of what we can do."
Alani blinked at him for a moment, eyes darting to his hands when they'd begun to move before focusing back on the words he’d been projecting. "Well..."And now she had to really think about those questions and their continued space in human society. Maybe a little more than that, the thought of a child raised in a freak show and the implication that the girl's X-gene might have an impact on her sport.
Alani didn't like where her mind went, so she reached for her second drink and took a slow sip as she recollected herself. "Right, well, as the late and great said, 'all exploited peoples are justified in feeling hostile and resentful toward those who exploit them.' On a use 'em and lose 'em standing, I'll be the first to admit that my only redeeming trait back before I got doxed was that I'm, well, hot. My markings add some weird, fucked up excoticism so they let me speak, but that I'm also," she paused to lower her voice again. "A living chainsaw really subtracted from the vision of a fuckable Polynesian mutant. I don't know what our limits as a species are either. I'd love to see what could be built, but aside from children being able to go to school with their peers without fear, I can't even imagine what it could be, honestly. And I'm getting a little tired of just wanting crumbs."
He nodded again. "Yeah. I think, if I could do anything, I'd want to identify mutants before they manifest, give them. I don't know. Support. Understanding. But that's real close to what the Australians do." He continued, quickly, providing the explanation, "they test for common gene clusters in their public health programs. It's pretty close to mandatory, is, for migrants. They don't let you come in with those gene clusters, even if they're latent, same as if you were disabled. Kids identified get 'support' but really, a lot of them end up in detention camps on Nauru or in the desert."
"That's good, that would be helpful, assuming they're not coming outta the womb with a visible mutation." The words were distant even to her own ears as she focused on not having an entirely emotional reaction and keeping herself from going through anything. “I didn’t know, about Australia. It’s pretty much the next door neighbor of where I’m from and I didn’t know that. Have you- Fuck. I’ve been so focused I haven’t looked into overseas lately aside from what’s put in front of me. How long has that been going on?”
Shit. "Ten, twelve years, I think? It's not something they advertise but Australia's a safe place. Not many mutants in the community, you know? and the ones that are, are safe. No one has to worry about things like mutant problems there." Artie's mouth twisted. He shook his head and switched back to the synthesiser, saying "Hey, hey, it's all right. It's all right. Tell me if we need to leave, okay?" Could you touch Alani when she was spacing out or would she phase through you? Better not. Better not touch the table, either, just in case. "I need you to focus back here, okay? It's all right."
"No. Sorry. Yes, it's - I'm sorry." It came out a little rushed, but her eyes snapped back up to him, hands clasping together in front of her as she took a few deep breaths. "I am okay and in control. Sorry, I promise, I haven't gotten this far by having a public blow up, and I'm not going to start today." Especially with someone else nearby. "I feel like I'm apologizing a lot, so I'm gonna put a stop to that, and instead say - that's fucked, really hate that I'm only learning this now, but nothing I can do for the past."
Artie gave her a half smile. "It's fine. Look, if you do have a public blow up and shred a table or something, no one really gets hurt and Snow Valley sends them $500 from the making friends fund. No big deal." No one else in the bar was really paying them attention, anyway. "It is fucked, though. Mutant politics are always fucked."
“As tempting as throwing other people’s money at a problem I’ve created because I’m dramatic might be.” Alani snorted, grin ticking up for a moment before she shook her head. Reaching back for her drink she gently tapped it against his beer. “Mutant politics are fucked. I don’t know why I fucking cheersed that, but here we are. At this point, I truly hope I’m the worst ‘met at a bar drinking person’ you’ve met at a bar. Or who’s bought you a drink, I guess.”
"Have you met the people we live around? You've got a long way to go before you're there."
