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Post by physis on Jun 3, 2016 16:15:14 GMT
 It started off as a joke at dinner with Zahir. Two days later, Sophia managed to turn the idea into a fully fledged charity event. Flyers had been distributed on the walls of local businesses. She's finalized the cosponsorship deal with Paws for Patriots, and at least five hundred people had clicked 'going' on the event page.
For twenty dollars a person, local yuppies could show up at the cat cafe and play with the kitties for the benefit of superheroes with PTSD. It was family friendly, with no corporate motives whatsoever. Those college leftists are just making things up.
Never the one for hedonism, Sophia spent the first hour greeting visitors and passing out pamphlets about trauma support and local resources. She smiles invitingly, and even those who didn't RSVP in advance came by to see what the bustle was about. A few make donations. For a few hours, just a few hours, Sophia feels like the city could be a part of her.
VALKYRIE
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 5, 2016 22:17:34 GMT
 It had been a pretty unorthodox mission briefing, even for something as laid back as this PR event. In fact, they'd pretty much refused to brief her. The woman who usually gave her the rundown before she went out to take names and kick ass, Mary Dell, had actually thrown up her hands and shoved Thalia out the door when she'd tried to get more details, muttering at a rapid clip under her breath about people who needed to relax.
Thalia could tell you one person who needed to relax at a cat cafe, apparently: Mary Dell.
She doesn't know much about the woman who is hosting the event. Sophia something? She's the wife of Zahir Brand--although Thalia can't remember the woman's last name, she knows she didn't take his--a high-powered, high-rolling tech guru/philanthropist, which is one of the shadiest combinations Thalia can imagine. Thalia's run into Brand a few time at Official Initiative Events™, usually in Tina's company. He's somehow even shadier in person, probably because he possesses a dangerously illegal amount of charisma. She doesn't trust that.
But the Facebook page for this gathering was nothing extravagant, despite the fact that half a thousand people had claimed they were attending. Thalia doesn't even wear her uniform, even though maybe she should, as an Initiative rep. She'd pulled it down out of the closet but it had felt at odds, somehow. It hadn't felt right.
She makes her way quietly to Sophia's side when she arrives, smiling at the woman with her "the cameras are watching" grin, and waiting for an opportune moment to introduce herself.
physis
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Post by physis on Jun 5, 2016 22:55:16 GMT
The thing about Facebook events was: "Interested" really meant "Supportive", and "Going" really meant "Interested". In reality, only under fifty people would be showing up all day.
It took Sophia a long time to learn, but sometimes it's about who shows up, rather than how many. A lot of the attendees are stressed college students. Other forty-something year old businessmen came to have a day out with their kids. She's only had to boot one man out, and he didn't cause a scene. Which was fortunate. For him.
And then there was the guest of honor. The people form a halo around her - the legendary telekinesis princess. The one who's probably going to recieve a presidential medal of honor when she stops the next alien invasion with her mind.
Sophia pauses for a second before handing Valkyrie a brochure. She is a guest. Especially in those plainclothes. She gets the same treatment as the woman before her. All except:
"Valkyrie. I hope that you enjoy your visit. Consider your admittance fee waived." Sophia smiles. She gives no indication that they had ever met before. A flash of cameras go off in their faces as people take out their phones. A storm of Twitter hashtags are created in seconds. #PINKALERT #MEOWMIX #CATPRINCESSES
"Excuse me." Sophia gestures to the budding bloggers. "Can you please turn the flash off? The cats are sensitive to light."
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 6, 2016 4:08:49 GMT
"Call me Thalia," she says, just as the dazzling array of camera flashes go off in their faces. It's nothing new. People have been taking pictures of her since she was barely 19. She's used to it; it's just bad timing. It's not even been a week and the lights look like nothing so much as the muzzle flash from a sniper's rifle. The body jerking and then going limp in her hands. There had been blood matted in her hair when she woke up the next morning. She'd cut it out.
She can feel the world slipping away, going grey and distant at the edges, but she smiles pleasantly enough for their pictures. They fade away easily enough when Sophia disperses them, only grumbling a little bit under their breaths, and Thalia slides into autopilot, turning to the other woman.
"You're a lot better at getting them to listen to you than I am," she says. "And I'm supposed to be the superhero."
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Post by physis on Jun 6, 2016 12:31:39 GMT
That's because you're public property Sophia thinks. If you weren't, then you'd be a member of a private army, and that possibility is too terrifying for people to consider.
Valkyrie is a sober reminder to her that strength is no refuge. Sophia sincerely pities her, but that's never what people want to hear. Instead, she says: "You didn't make any demands." She smiles, but not for the reasons that Thalia is smiling. This is the story that Sophia tells herself.
She turns around and motions for one of the part time workers inside to come to the front. She gives him the stack of brochures.
Sophia takes her hand. Slowly, like a serpent upon the branch. "Indulge me."
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 6, 2016 18:23:43 GMT
Her mouth twists into a crooked, realer smile now that the cameras are put away.
"I've learned not to bother," she says, and lets Sophia take her hand. There is no rational reason these days for Thalia to feel unsafe--she always does, anyway, but that's beside the point--but she dislikes touch unless she's the one to initiate it.
A couple of wry remarks rise to the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't speak any of them into life.
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Post by physis on Jun 6, 2016 19:07:41 GMT
She can't understand that. Sophia can't understand her complete unwillingness to control what happens to her.
It's a strange thing to hear from a woman who makes so much money independently. Sophia supposes that most people don't say that they fight villains for the purpose of accuring large amounts of cash. That's what the heroes are supposed to do in front of the cameras. They're supposed to pretend that their power and influence is an inconsequential side effect of being registered. That somehow, they're as safe as the kittens inside just because someone holds their leash.
She remembers the woman in the collapsing warehouse and thinks, the martyr act doesn't suit you.
Sophia shrugs. "Maybe you should think about it. You can't hold people to personal space if you haven't demanded it."
The walk into the cafe. True to the advertisement, the place is crawling with cats. Big cats, small kittens, underfed cats from the shelter, and fat cats. Striped cats. Spotted cats. Cats with a consistent coat. Cats with splotchy patterns. Cats, cats, everywhere.
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 6, 2016 19:44:05 GMT
Thalia doesn't bother trying to explain herself. Civilians, people, are entitled to personal space, to demands, to all the rights and privileges that come with being human. Weapons aren't.
She shrugs in return, and walks into the cafe. Where she promptly stops.
"That is a lot of cats," she says intelligently. One of them, a mottled orange and white tomcat who looks like he could stand to lose a few pounds, butts his head against her calves and twines his way between her ankles with a demanding yowl until she reaches down to scratch the top of his head.
"I didn't think people would actually come out for this," she says.
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Post by physis on Jun 6, 2016 20:05:53 GMT
Sophia sits down on one of the low benches. "Pets are likeable because they're helpless."
She reaches out for one of the grey cats with the white belly. The truth is, she prefers them over dogs. If an owner abandoned a dog, then they can wait for years for the owner to come back. A cat would be gone by the end of the week. It's a quality that Sophia can appreciate.
Unfortunately, the cat can't appreciate her. The cat bites her on the index finger, drawing blood.
"Oh." Sophia is calm, but she looks very sad from being rejected by a cat. Like she got stood up at prom or something.
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 6, 2016 20:12:09 GMT
"Is that why people have pets?" Thalia asks. She frowns. "I've never had one, but that's a disturbing rationale."
She picks up the tomcat and he burrows into her arms for a moment before she offers him to Sophia to pet. He hangs in her grasp like a fat loaf of bread and twitches his whiskers at Sophia.
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Post by physis on Jun 6, 2016 20:17:41 GMT
She's had this debate before with the other problematic pinkette. Albeit in a different context.
("Heron is not allowed to sleep on the bed.")
"Nothing else explains the overwhelming popularity of dogs."
Sophia reaches out with her other hand before conceding to her earlier mistake and rubbing the cat's belly instead. The cat looks extremely satisfied and burps in response.
If only they could all be as carefree as this fat tomcat.
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 7, 2016 2:17:33 GMT
Thalia looks lost for a moment, settling uncomfortably into the silence, when there's a screech of tires and a cut-off scream from outside.
"Fuck," she swears, and shoves the cat into Sophia's arms before running outside.
There's a small gathering outside the cafe, and a truck with its front end smashed into a streetlight. The truck looks like it'll be okay; the streetlight doesn't. A tall Viking-esque woman with pure white hair who looks like she stepped out of a photoshoot to go to war is shaking her fist at a man who is twice her size. He also looks like he's trying not to piss himself.
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Post by physis on Jun 13, 2016 6:27:47 GMT
The cat yowls loudly when he is thrown unceremoniously into Sophia's arms. She doesn't even know what kind of prize she's just lost. Fortunately, Sophia knows. She snuggles the cat closer to her chest and walks on out to investigate.
A pact among crimminals meant that you didn't rat other cutpurses out. Even if it was on a nice street. Even if you had enough social standing to shrug off the repercussions. Killer or not, even Physis is a woman of her word.
"Excuse me...surely there is no need to cause a scene in public." Especially not at an event that she's put together by running herself ragged. "You should probably be getting licence numbers and photos." Though there's only one automobile, so she has no idea what the upset is about. Sophia looks straight at Vivienne. She wonders if she would count it as a favor. They've certainly built up enough between the two of them.
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jun 13, 2016 7:13:32 GMT
Vivienne smiles at Sophia. As far as smiles go, it's pretty feral and not at all reassuring. Her fist doesn't waver from its place beneath the man's nose. His eyes have crossed staring at it.
"This ain't a scene," she says. The yet that belongs on the end of that sentence is almost audible. Her eyes flicker to Thalia, narrowing in recognition.
"Ey, pinkie," she snaps, "Arrest this guy for being a fucking dumbass."
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Post by physis on Jun 18, 2016 0:26:00 GMT
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race. Yes, Sophia knows.
She wonders if it is an easier solution to simply get Thalia to 'arrest' the man, if only to make sure that he escapes Vivienne's presence. The man looks like he might appreciate the out.
"Thalia, it might be easier if you send a car over." If only to appease the most dangerous woman on the scene.
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