Disaster strikes... glamerously.
Who: Angelo and Calix
Where: Nighthawk's
When: Mid-afternoon
He'd been staring out the window for a good portion of the day. Rain wouldn't go away. It never went away. So he remained standing there staring out the window hoping it would. Hoping that if he imagined it would go away than the whoever of whatever in the sky would make the rain stop so he could go out and get done what he needed to get done. A little idealistic of him. Well, no he really didn't believe any of that nonsense would work at all but he hoped really hard.
After various attempts to reconstruct the weather with his mind, Calix stepped away from the damned window and walked down from the living room toward the door to the great gray yonder. A bizarre sort of thing had happened. He'd misplaced everyone or everyone misplaced him, or perhaps he wasn't in his own home. Ah... that was it. Calix stopped for a moment as it all sort of hit him and he realized just what kind of reality he was walking in at the moment. Who one earth had he...? Well, that was also biza- actually it wasn't that strange, no.
The man sighed and slid his fingers around the cold knob of the door. Whoever it was, they must be elsewhere. So goes the fleeting life of lovers once and lovers lost. Nothing much to feel attached to, off he went.
It was about an hour after his decided suicide mission that he managed to the cafe everyone else always managed themselves to. With a large kerfuffle as he barged in, slammed his hands onto the bar area, and fell over. Silence rolled through the area, but one girl just managed a "Hello Calix."
Decked out in purple with red designs, a quite flashy and strange attire like most of his attire, the thin man stared at the ceiling with another sigh. Feeble bone-like fingers brushed back slightly damp red hair as the same waitress asked if he'd like something warm to drink.
"Yes please, darling," was his answer as he slowly rolled up to his feet, "earl gray, love. No sugar, just a drop of milk"
.
If he'd never seen the man before, Angelo would've joked that Bedlam was short a patient. Really, he still could if he wanted, but recognition ensured that he didn't want to. He knew Calix, knew of him. How could he not, when the man's myriad forms of involvement in the art world had, thusfar, been more well-received than Angelo's painting?
Which wasn't to say it was a jealousy issue, far from it, Angelo had just taken note of the emerging presence. He'd met Calix once or twice in the past at showings and galleries, and had taken the opportunity to see him perform when he could. And even if it was faint, there was some level of kinship, even if it was only that both men were artists. "Florence, doll!" Angelo called to the waitress who'd taken Calix's drink order, "Send him on down here once he's standin', I don' mind a lil' water on the table."
He didn't honestly mean to
He didn't honestly mean to make a huge mess of things, but since he did he sort of went with it. Wretched weather. Even if it weren't pouring, about an hour in it did it's damage on the man who had very poor reactions to the cold. So after he had gathered himself to his feet he thought to chuckle a little at the commotion he brought up. Most people went back to their doings after the initial uproar was over. Florence, as one man pointed out, was bubbly as ever. Happy to aid him with warm tea and a guiding hand toward the table that called to him.
Which brought him to a place he recognized. Crystal blue eyes hooked on the colored man sitting behind that table with a faint sparkle of delight in them. The waitress set down his tea on the empty side of the booth and smiled before fluttering away to serve other tables in her usual warmly self.
"Oh my," he said softly with a smile as he slid into the booth and wrapped his fingers around the cup of tea. "How interesting it is, the places time takes us."
.
Giving a velvety laugh of his own, Angelo nodded in agreement and raised his cup of coffee for a swallow. " 'Specially when ol' Father Time decides to linger in the downpour," he drawled, setting his mug aside, " 'Sides lookin' like you could use four towels, how you doin', my fine Mr. Light?"
It was a curious encounter, but one Angelo was eager for. He didn't overlap with most of the artistic community in the city, and few people were quite as immersed in it as Calix often seemed to be.
He closed his eyes and
He closed his eyes and breathed that laughter in. when it was issued. Though it merely looked like he were gathering his thoughts with an inhale and then a sigh. So warm - the first thing that Calix had noticed about Angelo upon meeting the genius behind the slabs of art. Angelo had a warmth, a very soothing warmth to him and he was smooth like silk. He spoke like an ancient man of wisdom through very simple and authentic strings of words.
The cup remained in his hands when he placed it down. Cold, wet, tired, weakened, slightly dizzy. None quite showed unless you were searching for them. Calix kept his posture up quite well, even when he was falling over himself.
"Well, actually. Aside from my bitter battle with Mother dear" - that was assumed to be Mother Nature, everyone knew his parents were gone even if they didn't know why or how, often having various stories about why and how though. "I've been well, very well indeed. Working on something new for the stage, and yourself?"
.
As it happened, Angelo was searching for the small incongruities, but not deliberately. It just happened, every time he spoke to someone. The world narrowed, blinders were slipped on, and he tuned into the moment before him. He couldn't fault Calix for them either, not with the chill of the season being driven home by the weather.
"Not like it's a benchmark for my wellness, but I sold a piece down in Fontaine yesterday," Angelo offered, smiling a little bit, "Not why I do it, you know? But it feels good knowin' someone wants to see what I see." Maybe that was where there was room to envy Calix; people were drawn to him, they wondered over his performances, debated the intent and subtext. Angelo wanted that, if only to spread some hope.
"So I'm good," he eventually answered, "Good enough to take the long way 'round answerin'." He chuckled again, sitting back and reclaiming his mug. "An' I think dear ol' Mom's got it in for us all today," Angelo went on, looking past Calix to the continuing rain, "Or maybe her bridge game got canceled an' she jus' don' know what to do with herself."
Either way, whether he was
Either way, whether he was faulted or not he was often faulty. It came with the territory, some would say. Times were hard, people were cold and harsh, living beyond what was here wasn't always so easy. It wasn't nearly as easy as he and some others made it out to be. Though there wasn't a single thing he'd take back, or redo, or stop pursuing. He made it a thing to touch just one soul every time he met new people, every time he had a new show, put out new poetry, took new photographs - every time he did something new. Just one person would walk away from it all with something unexplained.
He smiled lightly, almost somberly though when he'd heard the news. Calix couldn't quite figure out why Angelo wasn't received so well. Sure he knew or could guess but he didn't understand the importance of these bricks put up by the public. A black man with strange idea's, surely must be the work of the devil. What nonsense. He never saw a color when he looked an Angelo, just a man with a passion and an incredible mind. He frowned a little and placed his chin upon a talk of his hand.
"You deserve such, I do so believe." Which he did, with every drop of honesty that came from a natural born liar. "This person, I hope you took recognition of them? One day they'll be another person to push the boundaries of our minds. If not so boldly but through subtle education. I'd like to believe anyway. I'd like to believe we're all capable of expansion."
His eyes wandered off for a moment. Lips parted, and the hand holding his chin fished for a smoke. Not remembering whether Angelo smoked tobacco or not, he offered one to the other man before lighting up his own.
.
The declining wave was a slight gesture as Angelo sipped coffee from his mug, setting it at the table's edge for a warm up. "Don't think the suits at the Kitten would like too much if I couldn't hold enough breath to blow that horn," he joked lightly. "An' you'd best believe I took notice. Eyes that blue's as close we gon' get to clear skies an' sunlight, you know?" He'd even let them slip into a work in progress; splashes of color on a canvas that hadn't taken proper shape yet, but would in time.
"You ought come on by the Round some night, though," he went on, nodding gratefully as Florence breezed past and topped off his mug, "Got us a songbird for the house band that'll make you think you dreamin', not somethin' I heard too much." Of course, up at the Kitten Club there were plenty of amazing performers, but the Shadowed Angel? She had an ache in her singing that resonated with Angelo. He smiled warmly, raising his mug to breathe in the curls of steam rising from it.
Cigarettes were pushed back
Cigarettes were pushed back away and the thin tube of chemical concoctions laid between thin, faintly painted lips. His eyes wandered down to the paper place mat that had a few drops of water soaking through. Which of course encouraged him to do something. His fingers were just about to play with a puddle of water but they stopped abruptly. Actually, everything stopped abruptly both in his figure and in his perception of the world, for he had just been hit with an idea. The man seemed to have disappeared from Earth for awhile, but he snapped back with a blink. Calix hadn't heard a single word Angelo had said. Still, he smiled as if he did.
"Funny, that." His hands wrapped around the warm tea when a girl came up to him with a towel in hand. Out of the blue, seemingly out of nowhere. She wasn't even someone from the staff. Why on Earth would a lady, such a beautiful lady at that, have a towel just hanging around? Well, he'd had weirder things in his bags. He took a good long notice of her, smiled and thanked her. She didn't say a word but people rarely had to. Strange events found in pleasant quick and fleeting moments. Such a wonderful life. He smiled far too brightly and turned away, drifting back into his own world of thoughts. He loved life, really he did.
Then, back to reality again, he continued to sip at his drink before drying off with the towel.
"I've plans to go there for yet another artist. One who hides behind the doors. Can't let it remain such a way, really. Too bright, she is. Too much to share."
.
There? Where was 'there', the Kitten Club or the Round? Angelo wasn't going to ask, feeling a touch self-conscious about not keeping up with the conversation he held with Calix. He'd have to assume the other man meant the Kitten Club, as the Round held precious few performers overall. Mainly himself, his band, and the Shadowed Angel.
Smiling in amusement as Calix toweled off, Angelo nodded his agreement. "Do try an' intro me if you find her, yeah?" he asked, swigging from his coffee more heavily, then starting to dig out scattered money for his long-gone meal, "Few 'nough of us round here, I'm always up to meet one more, make that connection."
Starting to slide from the booth, he leaned back in to grab a tattered old umbrella, giving Calix a nod and earnest smile. " You gon' haveta excuse me, though. Gotta hoof it down to Chinatown an' pick up my suit for work. I hope you dry off, too. Don' go catchin' no chill, hear? Like I said, few 'nough of us around."
That particular
That particular misinterpretation, or understanding in his lacking communication skills, went beyond him. He sort of just assumed. A common mistake on his part. He finished toweling off and looked about. Where did that girl disappear to, did she leave? He frowned a little. Didn't even get a chance to say much more to her. How unfortunate.. she had lovely strawberry blond hair and milk white skin. He'd remember her.
"Of course," he said as his attention went back to the man across from him. "I certainly will."
Leaving, so soon? Calix blinked as he watched the man scamper for change. Immediately a hand came out with a crisp new bill and brushed back the change that fell atop the table. Not everyone was as fortunate as he was, he knew. "Save your pennies for your passions," he said softly. "Might I join your travels, by chance?"
.
The first answer to Calix's question was another short, warm laugh as Angelo nodded, gathering up his change. He was never a man to be insulted by the charity of another, especially not when it was someone who seemed in tune with his own views. "What man's gon' claim the right to tell another not to walk?" he mused with a small grin, reaching under the booth. " 'Sides which," Angelo went on as he produced an umbrella that was definitely too large for just him, not to mention somewhat battered and worn, "I been waitin' for a reason to use all this canopy, feel me?" Shouldering the umbrella, he slid from the booth and stood, waiting for Calix with a gaze aimed out the window that lingered on the storm.