maskormenacelogs | I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

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I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

WHO: Daryl Dixon, Mako Mori + Open
WHERE: Porter Cities & The House
WHEN: All November
WHAT: Catch-All!
WARNINGS: References ~~Zombies~~ Walkers, Kaiju, Abuse, General Violence and Gore are likely in a few threads.

Convention Circuit - A porter city near you
Having finally said goodbye to his Government assigned job, Daryl now had the free time to pursue projects he wanted to. For the most part. He was, however, still a contracted spokesman for Bow-Man Hunting and Hunting Season was well underway. With it came a convention circuit.

Daryl hadn't given much thought to the clause in his contract that had to do with personal appearances. He figured that he might have to make two, maybe three in a year because how many conventions could there be? 70. There were 70 conventions that Bow-Man Hunting had booths at. Every. Year. 26 for just the hunting and fishing industry. Not the general populace and 'enthusiasts', just the industry. The other 44 were the 'fan' conventions for the rest. The people that liked to go out like Daryl used to, for a weekend or a week in the woods. Or who wanted to prepare for a disaster, called themselves 'preppers'. Or for the rich asshole 'survival enthusiasts' who treated it all like a game. Gun shows, even, since families were often dragged along and left to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at whatever was in the dealer's hall and they could make a quick buck selling older models there along with their knife lines.

The only good part about the personal appearance clause was that he wasn't required to be at any shows (barring health or other negotiated absences) that weren't at the Porter Cities. The bad part was that he was required to be there for conventions in the Porter Cities. Which was why he could easily be found (looking very uncomfortable and grumpy, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed) by his adoring fans (Dear Lord how the hell did shooting one guy in the ass and posing for a couple pictures get him this much attention?) as well as people who actually wanted to talk shop.

Please, please, please, for the love of whatever you find holy or sacred or just downright okay, give him a 'business' reason to walk away from those fans crowding the side of the booth, taking pictures, and generally harassing him with a barrage of half-shouted questions and attempts to get his attention.

Enchilada Night - The House - November 3rd (open party for The Group, tag around/threadjack as you like)
Official purchase date had been October 23rd. Keys were handed out starting on the 25th. Official move-in date hadn't really been decided, as Daryl was still figuring out if he wanted to live on the property 'full time' or stick to the De Chima place. Mako's increased presence in day to day activity was pulling him closer and closer to Nonah as they'd have an easier time working their own personal touches into a new place than one of them taking up space somewhere the other had already established. Plus the De Chima house didn't really have space for the ravens Daryl was only a week or so away from formally adopting. The House did. And more they could add on to, as well.

Hell, he had already decided to move and just hadn't emotionally accepted it yet. He liked his housemates. Clark was quiet, but friendly enough. Betty always showed an interest in him and he was going to worry about her like crazy with Bruce still gone and her not knowing what to do with herself. And Catherine? He'd made her one of his almost as soon as he'd met her. They were kindred spirits from worlds where life as it was known in this one had ended.

Daryl wasn't really able to do a 'clean cut', but he could try to make the move-in more concrete. No better way to do that than with food. And free food, to boot. His last day on the job at the Cantina he'd been assigned to became something of a welcome-home move-in party. The restaurant was sad to see him go, but the employees had liked him well enough to fudge a few numbers on the books with 'remakes' and 'expired product' to send him packing with a good two dozen fresh enchiladas, a pile of tamales, and a few elotes.

Made for a great mini-feast with the family that none of them had to do the work for.

Wildcard/OOC
Daryl will largely be around Nonah and De Chima during November. Heropa will become less of a haunt the further into the month we get. If you've got an idea for a thread, you can post it or PM me to work it out beforehand so we're on the same page. And if you'd like a specific prompt, PM me and I'll set it up in the comments.

Also, feel free to tag in whatever style is most comfortable for you, I have no problem matching!

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The tea??

Daryl was here for the tea?

Alright, that came as a bit of a surprise and a split second later Charles gave himself a mental kick for his presumption. He chuckled and motioned towards the chalk blackboard where all the teas were listed.

"In truth, it was the teas that first brought me here," he admitted. "I haven't seen a restaurant or cafe anywhere else with such a broad selection. I just ... am well aware that tea is something of an acquired taste."

As for the question, Charles gave his head a shake even as he began to roll towards one of the tables.

"A table is fine and I just nudge the chair to the side," it wasn't the same as with the door. In this instance Charles would insist on doing for himself. "Would you like to join me for a cup?"

"Sure." Daryl continued to follow and didn't bother to try helping Charles since he'd made it clear he was good. Took one of the other chairs and pulled it out and spun it around so he could straddle it as he was most comfortable doing. He already knew which one he was going to order. Same one he always got because they somehow made the peach just right that a spoonful of honey was all it needed for him to enjoy as it should be.

"Ain't seen you around in a while," he said after a moment. He hadn't really been around the Foundation himself, so that really wasn't all that surprising. "How's things working out for you at StarkTech?"

It had been over a month. Hopefully it was safe to ask about.

Charles nudged a chair over to the side and out of his way as he rolled up to the table and set the brake. Folding his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers laced in front of him, when asked the Professor went for a classic English black tea, without cream, sugar or lemon.

It was safe to ask and Charles' expression barely missed a beat. If there was a slight tension at the corner of his eyes, or a flash of something in his eyes it was all gone quickly as he shook his head.

"I no longer work for StarkTech," the words came easily to him now. "My attention is strictly on the Foundation these days."

And some other endeavors. Those he wasn't going to mention.

"And how about yourself? Are you making headway in securing property?"

That was interesting. Good to hear because it just reinforced the impression Daryl had gotten of Xavier and his moral code. He hadn't known about Stark and what he was doing. But he'd gone after Stark when he found out. And leaving meant he wasn't tangled up in any further messes that might come by way of the asshole.

He crossed his arms over the back of the chair and nodded, "Yeah. Bought a house a couple weeks ago. Outside Nonah." A brief smile passed his lips before he could squash it as his thoughts drifted toward the family he did have that had chosen to move in with him. Then he sobered up and sucked in a breath as his expressing turned thoughtful.

"Lookin' at another property, tho. Bigger project. Could use some of the kind of help you had with the foundation for it."

It was unfortunate that Daryl held his current negative opinion of Stark. Charles gave a half smile as he lifted his tea and took a sip, before he remarked.

"I know Tony is currently in a generous mood," he said and his tone made it plain that he was well aware that Stark was attempting to use his money to beg forgiveness. While Charles didn't expect it would work, from an emotional standpoint, he'd been raised by the same parenting style as Stark; where money made everything better.

"Someone that ain't him," Daryl said after half a beat of just staring at Charles while he tried to work out if that was a joke or not. It was followed up with a scoff before he, too, took a drink of his own tea. It was rather calming, which was what he needed.

"Ain't looking for funding," he added after another moment. Figured it would be better to clarify. "Construction groups, people who're good at building. That sort. The money's taken care of."

And not just because Daryl had won the lawsuit. But that did make it easier to point to for funding if anyone questioned how he was buying so much land.

"Ah," Charles said with an understanding nod.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and seemed to consider the matter for a long minute before offering what he thought my better suit the question.

"I know Erik communicated his needs to the imPort community, as well as reached out to several local native firms. Have you considered that route? Or perhaps reaching out to some of the people you worked with when you helped us with the Foundation?"

He nodded slowly before the nod became a negative shake of his head. He had talked to a couple local firms, and they were decent enough, but as far as the more secretive aspect of the plans went, he wasn't going to be able to use them. Fellow imPorts at least had a chance of understanding why they needed to keep the location of the build, or that it existed, out of pubic knowledge.

"Erik's the one that can move metal, ain't he?" The man was one of the people Daryl was half-hoping to get involved and on board with the project because having someone who could lay out the metal support structure inside a couple hours would speed the time table up several weeks. And then again when laying the needed electric cables. "I've been poking around at some others, but weren't figuring they'd be up for something like a huntin' shack."

"Yes," Charles agreed with a wry chuckle. "The manipulation of metal is one of Erik's skill sets."

It was only one but Charles wasn't at liberty to talk about the full range of his friend's mutation.

Instead he tilted his head at Daryl, brows furrowing in a curious manner.

"Have you asked them?"

"Just a couple." Which was only half-true. He had asked some people, but none that had worked on the Foundation's building. Erik's skill set as far as the metal went was sticking in Daryl's head now, though.

"I uh, I ain't ever talked to Erik. You think you could..." he trailed off, trying to figure out how to put it because it wasn't really a hunting shack he was looking for help with, "innerduce me?"

"You two never talked when you helped with the Foundation?" He sounds surprised but he probably shouldn't be. If Erik had been particularly focused, he could sometimes be difficult to get a word in around.

Giving his head a gentle shake, Charles reached into the pocket of his suit coat for his device.

"It's not a problem. If you'd like I can see if he's here in the city and invite him over now?"

The offer surprised him and he straightened up, having to force his shoulders back so he didn't look like he was caught off guard. "Sure. Okay."

A little faster than he'd anticipated, but a person to person introduction was far and away better than over the phone.

"Right then," he said with a quick, impish sort of grin. "Let me see if he's available."

Daryl let his hands drift back to his cup and he took his time with the drink, staying quiet while Charles got on the phone and spoke to Erik. Waited until he was done, trying not to look too hopeful or nervous or... edgy in anyway, really.

"He uh... he got time?" He asked only when it looked like the other man was done.

It was text actually and after a few minutes, he set the device back into his coat pocket and looked up with a smile.

"He said he'll be along," he shared.

"Cool." He nodded, trying to relax and ease the nerves off. It wasn't like he was asking for help with anything illegal (technically. yet.) but this was definitely the most public he'd been in searching out aid for the project. It was difficult not to get fidgety and fall into silence even when he felt like he should be making small talk. Or even just a different direction for the conversation.

Which, really, was the only reason he blurted out, "You see that Galactic Gaurdians movie yet?" The one that came out four months ago and Daryl had only seen recently because it hit the dollar theater and he and Dorian (of the Pauvus kind, not the Gray) had managed to catch it on one of their own outings.

As conversational gambits went, that was ... rather clunky, but Charles grinned and sat back with his tea.

"I'm afraid I don't get out to the pictures often," yes he actually did just call movies pictures. He really had been born an old fart, in so many ways. "What was this one about?"

"Bunch of assholes trying to save the galaxy from being destroyed," he answered, sitting up and looking a little more animated. "The leader is this space pirate who got scammed into stealing a weapon he ain't know was a weapon. And then a couple bounty hunters tried to steal it from him, but then this royal guard came and stopped them because she was on a mission to get it back and all four of them ended up getting caught by intergalactic slavers and put to work in some asteroid mines. Forced them to work together to get out, get the weapon back, and stop the guy that wanted to use the weapon in the first place."

Spoilers? What are those?

"Really stupid dialogue, but good action and effects. Liked the bounty hunters. One was a talking rock. That was funny."

That all sounded like ... nothing he would ever watch in his life.

It was safe to say that Charles Xavier had not bothered to go out to a movie since pictures switched from black and white to color. But he listened, attentively to Daryl as the man ran through the plot, spoilers and all, before he gave his head a small shake and his lips twisted in a rueful manner.

"I believe I read a story written by a native about some of us, at Fanport, that resembled a plot like that," aka Charles Xavier's brief introduction to the world of fanfiction. It had been very brief and he had quite politely retreated declined to look further.

That got a snort of amusement out of Daryl and something of a smile that he hid behind his cup, "Ain't surprised. They make up all kinds of shit about us all the time."

He fell silent again, nursing a couple sips of his drink before starting to talk in a slower, more contemplative tone, "Never really used to go to the movies. Not before. Then everything happened and here I am. Going almost religiously every week to two weeks like it's a goddamn church service. I mean, I used to watch more'n a few on TV. That public access shit and the free channels 'fore they switched from rabbit ears to cable. Then basic cable 'cause my daddy didn't wanna give up what few shows he liked. And the shoppin' channel so he could laugh at all the knives they tried to pass off as worth somethin'. But never to the theater. Not more than maybe once every couple years. Drive-ins when I was a kid and they were still around."

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