ic Midnight Express (IC)

[Electra]

Erin grinned in return, shrugging one shoulder. "You could always suggest it to the cook in the caf," she suggested. "Never know what they could come up with. If you can put alcohol in jello, why not coffee in pie? I mean, don't you ever get bored of just drinking it?" As far as she could tell, Trevor drank oceans of the stuff, and that was the reason he could stay up all night. She wondered how tall he would've been without all the coffee. "I was looking online the other day while I was watching Alex's investments and I saw an add for coffee soap. That's got to be weirder than pie. Who eats soap?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor shook his head, still smiling. "Never. Different beans, different roasts, different blends. S'like tinkering with an engine." He emphasized the statement with a slight gesture, warming to the topic. "Been working on a custom brewer; still needs work." He swirled the cup in his hand idly. The coffee was a little sweeter than he preferred, and had a light nutty aftertaste. Fortunately it had been prepared competently; roasted recently enough that it wasn't too stale, and definitely ground immediately before brewing. To be fair, as knowledgeable as the lanky teen was about the beverage, he wasn't terribly picky when it came down to it. The fact that it was hot and strong counted for a lot.

"Soap's supposed to deliver caffeine through the skin when you wash. Doesn't really work, though." After a beat, Trevor shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Disposable income. Seemed like a good idea at the time." Between the assortment of coffee and gadget-related online newsletter and sites he routinely perused, he had a habit of being among the first to test out the newest thing.

[Electra]

That drew a chuckle from Erin, though she hid it behind her coffee mug. "Good to know, I guess," she offered. "So coffee baths probably aren't going to be catching on anytime soon. Even besides the ring they'd leave in the bathtub." She finished her cup, grimacing a little at the sweetness of the sugar that had settled in the bottom of the cup. "I still think I'd prefer getting my caffeine from soda, if it still did anything for me. It's funny because I come from Seattle, but I never really got into coffee-drinking."

[Gizmo]

Trevor considered his options as he finished the last of his coffee. Erin had dropped two pieces of information about herself, and the dispassionate, analytical part of his mind weighed them as he decided which to pursue. Between her reticence to talk about her past and his own general lack of tact, he was determined to step lightly. Ultimately, he decided that an entire city was less likely to be the source of bad memories than a suite of chemically induced super powers. "Seattle?" he asked simply.

[Electra]

"Yeah, you know, Seattle's famous for having a coffeeshop on every corner, Starbucks, all that stuff," Erin told him. "It's kind of just a stereotype, like half the people in Freedom City being metahumans, but there's some truth to it. There are lots of coffeeshops, anyway. I'd rather have cocoa, or just a Coke." She grinned, not seeming too bothered by the line of conversation. "Hope I haven't mortally offended you or something."

[Gizmo]

Trevor placed both hands over his heart as though horribly wounded. "Truly, a vendetta has been born,"he intoned in perfect deadpan. "Honor demands blood. Or perhaps a second round." So late at night the truck stop was mostly empty, and the dark haired teen had little trouble getting the waitress' attention to order a second cup of coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for his classmate. While they were waiting for it to arrive, he tilted his head slightly to one side. "Moved to Freedom for Claremont?"

[Electra]

"Sort of," Erin said carefully. She figured she could probably leave it at that and he wouldn't pry, which was a quality she appreciated in anyone. But it was the middle of the night, and she was feeling more relaxed than usual, and so she let slip a little more. "I didn't exactly come to Freedom City for Claremont, but Claremont's a good place for someone with powers to go when they haven't got anyplace to go. Some people, like Alex and Mike, they have their powers for years and know exactly what they want to do with them when they grow up. Or you, even if you haven't got the details down quite yet. I just figure it's a good place to be while I figure out exactly what I'm supposed to be doing with the rest of my life. 'Be a hero' is sort of vague, you know?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor rolled his shoulders under his jacket. "Maybe," he allowed contemplatively. "I think... it's good to plan for eventualities, possibilities. Having one, singular plan for the future, though..." The lanky teen rubbed his chin as he marshaled his thoughts. "I tend to take things as they come. Vague can be flexible, resilient." It was difficult for him to shape his feelings into words, unpracticed as he was with conversation. Careful and deliberate as he was, Trevor wasn't one to concern himself overly with the future in the abstract.

[Electra]

"Yeah," Erin allowed, "sometimes. But you still know what you're going to do, at least sort of." She waited until the waitress brought their drinks and left before continuing. "You've got your grandfather's legacy, you've got the Night Cycle. You're not going to give up on being Midnight II, whatever else you decide, right? That's not really being vague, that's just having an outline to fill in with the details, like if you want to work solo or on a team, or where you operate."

[Gizmo]

"Give up? ...no, I suppose not." Trevor considered for a moment as he waited for the coffee cool a bit. True, he'd been handed a pre-made heroic identity, a virtual road map to a career in vigilantism. Living up to his grandfather's legacy meant a lot to him, felt undeniably right, but the somber youth had to wonder at his own, deeper motivations. "I have the... how of it," he allowed finally. "But you have the why; have your friends. Reason to fight. Everything else..." He shrugged easily. "Flows from that."

His face fell a bit a he picked up his refreshed cup. "Sorry. Don't mean to trivialize," Trevor apologized with a hint of embarrassment. "Not an easy thing."

[Electra]

"What's your reason?" Erin asked baldly, picking up her own cup. "I mean, you can't say it doesn't kind of suck. You could have a normal life if you wanted, go to a regular high school, play sports, spend your weekends lazing around or going on dates or having a job or whatever. I couldn't do any of that if I wanted to, but why don't you?" Erin apparently had fewer compunctions than Trevor about heading into dangerous territory. Maybe it was something about talking in the middle of the night.

[Gizmo]

Trevor was quiet for a long time, his expression unreadable. Finally he opened his mouth hesitatingly. "My grandfather... he fell into it. 'Midnight' was supposed to be a practical joke. But he realized he could help people, was good at it." The lanky teen cracked his knuckles absently. "No vengeance, no oath, just did the right thing, night after night. They made it all illegal, and the ones with powers gave up. He just kept making the right choices. Not the easy ones." Trevor looked up, and Erin saw a surprising intensity in his eyes despite his soft, even tone. "People shouldn't need a reason to do the right thing. I'm good at this, too, getting better. Have it in me to help people." He shook his head slowly. "So no. I couldn't do those things instead."

[Electra]

Erin thought about that for a moment, drinking hot cocoa that had obviously been spoon-stirred from a powder. "Yeah," she finally agreed, looking into her cup, "but sometimes it doesn't seem very fair. Other people don't give their whole lives up to hero work, and they still get to tell themselves they're doing the right thing. But that's life, I guess," she continued, deliberately trying to shake off the moment. "And the unfairness of life is just depressing to talk about. I know you said you did all that stuff yourself on the motorcycle. Have you ever worked on a truck?"

[Gizmo]

Trevor's eyebrows rose then fell as he struggled to shift gears with equal agility. "Uh... yes?" It came out sounding more like a question than an answer. He was having a tremendous amount of difficulty anticipating Erin. In all honestly, he was kind of enjoying it. "Worked on all sorts of engines. Lot of the parts in the brewer I'm building came from a pickup."

[Electra]

"Maybe you could take a look at my truck sometime, if you've got some time to spare," she suggested. "I've been reading some books about engines, maintenance and stuff, but it's all pretty basic. It'd be cool to see what someone who really knows about engines could do with it. It's a pretty basic pickup truck, but it's almost new." She paused, sipped her drink. "Maybe you could give me some pointers on how to keep it working right."

[Gizmo]

His stoic composure returning, Trevor inclined his head agreeably. "Happy to." Reflexively, he brought his cup to his mouth to cover the smile threatening to blossom there. It had been a long time since he'd had an actual conversation with anyone; he and his grandfather were of such like minds that they had little need for discussion, and any socialization tended to be largely for show at high society events. Trevor realized he'd begun to think of 'people' as more of an abstract concept than anything else. It felt good to let his guard down a bit. The more brutally honest part of him admitted that the specific company probably had something to do with that.

[Electra]

"Cool." Erin took another drink. "What kind of brewer are you making, anyway? Like a coffee machine with truck parts? Or are you trying to build a still or something? Eddie would probably worship at your feet, but I think Summers wouldn't like it much," she predicted with a grin. Trevor didn't say much, but the silences didn't feel awkward, so that was okay. They sort of made her feel like talking more, which was kind of unusual.

[Gizmo]

Trevor exhaled wryly. "No, for coffee. Needed the belts from a junker," he explained, making a slight circular gesture with one finger of the hand resting on the table. "Put a mug in one end, dial your prescription, comes out full on the other end." The black clad youth shrugged casually. "In theory. Lost a lot of mugs so far." The Machine still needed a lot of work. Currently it was in a number of smaller pieces after the last trial run had gone particularly awry. On the positive side, that had made it easier to move into his dorm room at Claremont, where it took up a large space between the foot of his bed and his workbench.

[Electra]

"You could ask Darian to help you," Erin suggested, "he's got a hand with inventing things. You'd just have to make sure he didn't turn it into a time machine or a giant laser while he was at it." She thought for a second. "But couldn't you just buy one? Like a coffee vending machine? I'm sure I've seen some like that, like down at the public library. They've got like gas station cappuccino and hot cocoa and four kinds of coffee in them." She knew there was a lot of money in Trevor's background, if he wanted a vending machine in his room, he could surely afford it.

[Gizmo]

The corner of Trevor's left eye twitched and his mouth curled in a barely contained look of near physical pain. "Have... you ever tried vending machine coffee?" The dark haired youth kept his tone measured and clam, but compared to his usual impenetrable deadpan, it was scandalized. "I'm talking about choosing which beans in which proportions, burr-grinding or pounding, pressure or percolation, optional flavouring to taste. Anyone's perfect cup, every time." Trevor realized he'd begun leaning forward at some point during his explanation and slowly pulled back self-consciously. Clearing his throat lightly, he shrugged his jacketed shoulders. "Good to have a hobby," he downplayed gracefully. "Besides escrima, gymnastics, engine tuning and... so on."

[Electra]

Erin had no idea what Trevor was talking about for most of his recitation, her blank look probably conveying that well. She wasn't about to mention that she'd spent a lot of the past few years dividing her food and beverage options into "edible," "non-edible" and "how hungry am I?" rather than reading up on gourmet beverage preparation, so she just shrugged. "The cocoa from those things is kind of watery," she allowed. "I guess the coffee wouldn't be that great either." She picked up on a topic she thought she knew a little more about. "Escrima is stick-fighting, isn't it? Do you do that?"

[Gizmo]

Reaching down beneath the booth, Trevor retrieved a pair of polycarbonate sticks from the sheaths tucked into the top of his boots and laid them on the table. Each was a little longer than his forearm, and unsurprisingly cast in a matte black. "S'efficient and effective. Grandfather mostly got by on surprise and a little boxing, but even thugs take self-defense courses these days."

[Electra]

Looking to Trevor for permission, Erin picked up one of the dark sticks and examined it, hefting it to test the balance. "I've done a little bit of stickfighting, just in training," she told him, "but I think I do better with one weapon at a time. Plus, they'd have to make me a set of power-dampening sticks, which would probably be a pain. These are neat, though." She twirled it neatly around her hand, then set it back down before the waitress noticed anything. "Do you carry them all the time?"

[Gizmo]

Deftly retrieving them from the table, Trevor replaced the sticks in their sheathes if a single fluid motion. "When I wear the boots," he admitted. The twin weapons were a little too large to be carried conveniently in his civilian garb, as much as he preferred to have the readily on hand. Fortunately, any time he went out, he typically brought his entire uniform with him in a knapsack or stored on the Night Cycle, so they were rarely far from reach. "Experimented with collapsible versions; couldn't justify the loss in durability."

[Electra]

"That's another thing you could talk to someone at the school about, even Mr. Archer." Erin made a face. She rarely bothered to hide her disdain for the gym teacher, a subject Trevor had already heard something about. Scuttlebutt around the school said that Wander had done something really horrible in her first simulated training sessions, though descriptions of what that might be ranged from the macabre to the truly far-fetched. Apparently, Mr. Archer had decided that she needed substantial reconditioning of her reflexes before she could go out on the streets. Or that was the story, anyway.

"I haven't broken my bat since I got it, and I use it pretty hard," Erin continued her thought. She took her collapsed bat out of its belt holster and showed it to him. It was black too, about the length of her hand, and entirely nondescript. It looked like it might be the center bar for a paper towel holder. "And it's a lot longer than one of those sticks. I bet they could come up with something if you wanted."