nexus_crossings | Return of the Blind Ninja

Return of the Blind Ninja

Ordering clothes and equipment from the internet is all well and good, but after Matt's entanglement with the FBI several years ago, the idea of completely untraceable gear has been a tempting prospect. Today, he's browsing the shopping district, rubbing fabrics between his fingers to test its properties, in search of something that might deflect bullets or knives.

It's the Nexus, you never know.

Unfortunately, despite his enhanced senses, there is at least one important factor in purchasing clothes that he cannot overcome on his own. Footsteps mark the approach of someone else, and though Matt keeps his white cane tucked close to his feet to be out of the walkway, it's visible enough to be obvious if you know what you're looking at.

"Excuse me, what color is this?"

[ooc: usual disclaimer - Matt is blind but his other senses are enhanced to superhuman extremes. Feel free to add nonvisual sensory details in your tags that might help him get a better idea of who your character is or what they've been doing recently.]

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Aside from turning to click the jacket's hanger back on the rack, Matt's body language is restrained by comparison. With little need to face what he's paying attention to, and a desire to not have anyone trip over his cane, he stays fairly still, firmly planted in one spot. There's no uncomfortable or uncertain tension in the set of his shoulders, though; this is a man who is assured of where he is regardless of the fact that he can't see any of it.

He tilts his head slightly at that, catching on the implication that the other man's shopping trip has somewhat softer aims than his own. "Truth be told, I could use more casual clothes too. The jacket's the only must-have, but I haven't changed up my wardrobe in a while."

Matt smiles slightly when Jim admits to not remembering his name, an expression meant to disarm any awkwardness over the matter. "That was me, yes." Absently he rubs his free hand against his ribs, though the broken bones have long since healed. "I'm Matthew, though my friends tend to call me Matt. Among less flattering names," he adds with a self-deprecating grin.

"Matt. Good to know. Believe me, I know my way around unflattering monikers. Thankfully you don't have to worry about that with me." Matt can almost hear the smile taking over Jim's face to be re-introduced to the other. He's a real social guy when lives aren't on the line. Still very clearly on the look out for something though.

"I know there was a specific place Isidor looked at for tactical gear after the first security incident back then. Nexus places being what they are, I'm not totally certain it's still there, but I know where it used to be if you're up for a walk." He walks past the lawyer before turning back to address Matt again.

"I'm trying to find some soft loungewear for my husband. He hurt himself pretty bad semi recently and is very touch-sensitive at the moment. He's been having some trouble sleeping..." A sigh. Jim's smile vanishes from his voice as he trails off. There's a Story there but not one to be shared in public or probably with an acquaintance.

"Not having much luck though."

It's a familiar tone, certainly, and one where Matt is not inclined to push for details. This is not a client where he needs to know the details to build a case; this is a man who is worried about his husband and needs support, not questions.

"Maybe I could help with that," he offers lightly instead. "I have a lot of experience trying to find soft textures, especially for sleeping in. I don't know who decided polyester should be the predominant fabric these days, but I'd like to have words with them."

"Is that a synthetic blend of fibers? I'm not familiar with a lot of the fabric names you find in the Nexus. It's all pretty...well. Ancient, compared to my world. Some of it feels pretty good though." For archiac craftsmanship at least. A lot more comfortable in a lot of cases than the clothing from Felix's pre-industrialized world for certain.

"The things I sort of recognize the descriptions of from my world still don't feel the same, though the multiverse and a couple hundred years of genetic modifications and selective growing probably account for a lot of that." Jim sighs but leads the way out of the store they'd been browsing in.

He holds the door open for Matt as he goes. It's less direct concern than habit. "If you know anywhere around here that's good for it I'd much appreciate the help."

Ancient, he says, and that doesn't seem that odd in a place like the Nexus. Jim's understanding of textiles is advanced enough that he knows of synthetics, though, and that helps a lot more than the other way around. "One of the more common ones, though there are others. Rayon, nylon, and so on. They're woven plastic, so they all have that filmy slick sort of feeling on my skin. Silk is superior, but more expensive, and not terribly warm."

Matt gathers his cane, and uses it to clear the ground in front of him as he walks, a rhythmic tap-tap from side to side. Still, he moves with confidence, assured of his path to the door and outside of it. It's sunny, but getting cooler, and there's a faint scent of dying leaves on the wind. He pauses a moment, getting his bearings, and listening for familiar sounds. "There was a little outlet a few streets over from the main Plaza a few weeks ago that stocks cashmere sweaters and sleepwear. That'd be my best bet to start looking. It was this way, I think."

"I don't think I've held real silk in my hands pretty much ever. Not the Terran variety at least." He's not even entirely sure what it was originally made from, although Jim can hazard a guess given the somewhat unique origins of things they Call silk from other planets. "Most of the things they call silk I've seen though did sort of feel like that too though. Are they imitation fabrics then?"

Not very good ones by the sound of it. Given how the conversation's turned, as well as their direction, Jim relaxes into a comfortable stride following Matt's lead. He can resume helping the man with his tactical shopping later.

"The one with the teahouse next door with the weird potted plants out front? Or am I thinking of somewhere else...."

Matt hums in his throat, a considering sound. "It's possible. Some silk can be like that, but the best silk is cool and smooth, no tackiness to the feel at all. It slides right through your hands."

Most New Yorkers tend to stride along like they've got somewhere to be in a hurry - granted, because many of them do - though Matt's pace is a touch more relaxed, easy for Jim to keep up as he taps his way down the sidewalk with the confidence of long practice. He has enough to keep track of without having to worry about concentrating on hearing obstacles in his way, splitting his attention between his companion and the sounds of the busy street. "That sounds like the one," he affirms. "If you mean the one where the plants smell like hot caramel and peach."

He doesn't know the name of it, of course; not every establishment in the Nexus has signage friendly to the visually impaired, though occasionally he's surprised. But smell is distinct and usually quite identifiable, and it's hard to forget this particular fragrance.

"I've definitely seen a few uniforms--mostly formal dress--that have used something that sounds close before. The stuff we use on the ship is...well. What's close to your time period...3-D printers? Are those a thing yet? It's kind of like that. It's a special material we can recycle through our replicators. Cargo space is a premium in the Black, so we make every bit count."

Jim's own pace carries a bearing to it that almost says 'military', though it's not quite so rigid. He's clearly relaxed around Matt well enough. Comfortable and familiar with their surroundings. As much as one can ever be in the Nexus, at least.

"That's what that smell reminded me of. Peaches. I've been trying to put my finger on it every time we'd walk past....The sweet smell always kind of drowned everything else out. I dunno what kind of flowers those are but man they're pungent. Good tea, though. If you've not tried any I highly recommend it."

"Those are a thing," Matt answers, perking up a little, though his head doesn't turn in Jim's direction. "I've heard of a few art studios using it to print tactile versions of artwork that the public can touch. Finally gives me a reason to visit one, I suppose."

The rest of the explanation makes sense, and he nods along with it, eyebrows raised. "Makes sense. If you have to rely on your own stores for resources, you'd want to reuse as much as possible. Is it... comfortable?" Jim made special mention of dress uniforms, but that means that it's notably different.

It's good to know that they're both on the same page, and the distinctive smell is enough for Matt to attempt to home in on, as his companion keeps an eye out for whatever visual indicators the little clothing outlet and its neighbors have. "I'll keep that in mind. We use coffee in the office, but tea is a taste of home."

"Good, that's good. I can't think of the last time I was at a museum proper. Got no excuse, personally. Just busy." Going to museums and the like usually requires one to be on planet if they're not taking a virtual tour. The pace they keep is relaxed but more brisk than many of the people wandering around them with Matt confident in his surroundings and Jim fairly sure of what general direction they're going.

It won't be long at all before Matt picks up the scent he's looking for. Not much longer after that for Jim to stop and crane his neck before turning slightly the direction Matt's heading. "I think I see it actually--" He glances back to his company before shrugging. "I think so. Softer than the clothing my husband's world uses, but admittedly that's not saying too much. I wouldn't think it's weird if you wanted to touch my shirt or something."

If there's one thing Matt understands perfectly, it's work keeping you busy. "Busy is an excuse, if you ask me. Do you get any time off?" Jim doesn't strike him as the sort of person who works throughout his waking hours just because he has no passion for anything else.

Ah, there's the shop. Good to know it hasn't gone walkabout too far, this time. "That's the one," he affirms, zeroing in on the soft sounds of wool being folded. It's a small place, just big enough for half a dozen people to browse the displays comfortably, and does not sound terribly busy at this time of day. He turns back in Jim's direction a little at that offer, and wastes no time reaching out his free hand to rub the fabric of the captain's shirt between his fingers. There's a strangeness about its smell, in addition to the feel - not the same as natural fibers, but not the plastic sort of odor that tends to come with polyester or nylon.

"I mean sure, some. But I've got so many side projects going on that actual free time is kind of rare. I've been running studies where I can at one of the research labs in the Nexus trying to suss out scientifically what the hell magic is. Or at least the variety my husband uses. He's teaching me their version of pharmacology as well as their language. I'm teaching him how not to die in space....." Jim sighs after a long moment.

"And all of that's on hold until he recovers and we deal with the shit that got him injured in the first place." But at least while he's stuck recovering Jim can maybe find him something soft and cozy to lounge in. Jim's going for the door to pull it open for Matt but freezes when he feels the man grab the end of his shirt.

Another thing Matt may have a difficulty with is finding much in the way of seams. The Replicators don't have to sew anything so much as create the matter from the blueprints that have been programmed into the system. Jim waits until Matt seems to be satisfied before taking a step toward the door.

"It's structurally identical to the organic based fabrics made on Earth these days but I can't technically call it natural since it came out of the Replicator." Even a cursory glance around seems a lot more promising than the last shop they were at. Everything on display certainly seems to lean toward the warm and cozy end of the scale.

Ah, magic. Matt's lips twitch a little at the mention of the word. He's still not certain how he feels about it as a whole - it sounds ridiculous but he's experienced things he can't explain that nevertheless can't remotely be confused with divine miracles - but trying to quantify it and define it sounds a lot more reasonable than just smiling and nodding and accepting it, if you ask him.

That sentiment passes, however, cleared with the more sober reminder of why Jim is shopping for softer clothing in the first place. "You've got quite the full plate," Matt says, sympathetic. "Best wishes for a swift recovery."

The texture of the shirt is interesting, and the lack of seams does not pass unnoticed. It's like Jim said, a 3-D print of fabric, smoothly transitioning from sleeve to torso with nary a stitch to separate the pieces. He mulls that over as he drops his hand and steps into the store, looking thoughtful behind his wine-dark glasses, cane tapping at the floor tile. "It almost feels like a cotton blend, but... slicker, somehow. So it's not just recycled thread, it's built from the ground up. That's impressive. I don't think our three-D printers can do that yet."

"Might as well be busy though, right? Only so many hours in the day to not fill them with what's important to you." Matt's likely got quite a bit on his plate too given the kind of clothing He's in the market for and how much at odds with the ordinary suit and tie office type he presents himself as.

"There is a recycling system to cut down on waste and supplies needed to be housed on site, but..." Jim rolls his head with the trailing off word from side to side while he tries to fish for the best way to explain it. "It's pretty new tech yet, even for the Federation."

Even still replicators need a program to follow to make anything. Jim glances around a few of the sweaters on display at the window front. Everything here does look really comfortable.

"And I can't get anything printed on the ship like this." Jim follows Matt inside. He's eager to poke around.

"I can't disagree with that," Matt admits, a quirk of his lips to say that he understands the sentiment all too well.

He nods a little, hearing that hesitation in Jim's voice. Either it's too complicated to explain to a twenty-first century human, or the captain doesn't know all the finer details himself. Which is fair enough; even if he could read his microwave's user manual, Matt could not explain how it works either.

Trying to locate specific kinds of garments like this is a challenge for him, their outlines fuzzy and soft and indistinct, even moreso with the cashmere and other soft wools that stock the shelves and racks here. This is no obstacle for Matt, because the tactile experience is such a pleasant one. He folds up his cane and tucks it into his pocket, freeing up both hands to explore what the store has to offer. At least the footprints of the display units are clear to his senses, and he navigates around a freestanding table with little trouble, lightly running a hand over the fabrics on it. "I'd start with sweaters, but if they have robes, that might be a good call."

"How cold is your world? You're from one of the Earths floating around, right?"

No matter where Jim turns the clothing on display is pillowy soft and so Warm. He may be here looking for something light and delicate for Felix to wear but Jim's first officer is also coming to mind as someone who might want to take a look at everything that's on offer.

"I'm trying to imagine a blanket made of this stuff and I think I might need a nap already." The captain gives the tiniest chuckles at his own joke while he makes his way back to study a display of mens' robes. It's more breath than it is sound. This is not at all dissimilar to some of Felix's lighter casual wear while he's meditating. He could probably really use something like this.

"Don't think I've ever seen anything this cozy before. You've got really good taste."

"That's right. Manhattan, New York specifically." Matt's pretty sure that Jim is also an Earth man, so hopefully that means something to him. You can never tell in a place like the Nexus. "It gets down below freezing in the winter, but there isn't usually as much snowfall as I hear they get upstate. A good coat and boots are a must-have, especially if it's icy out."

The side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at Jim's commentary, not disagreeing in the slightest. The fabric under his hands is soft and promises good insulation, and he pulls out a sweater, carefully feeling the length of the sleeves and the shape of the neckline. A new sweater like this smells fresh and new, the faint scent of lanolin still clinging to the fibers. "It can be pricey sometimes, but it's worth it. I'm more sensitive to texture than most. Even cotton can be too rough unless it has a high thread count. Cashmere and merino wool are going to be your best bet for comfort. Angora's good too, but it's much more delicate and not very elastic."

"I've only been up that way once or twice myself, and it wasn't even on my world. Used to go get coffee with a guy who did one of those...special defense force? Kind of jobs. They called it super hero stuff but Barton claimed he was as normal as I was despite being able to break me in half if he wanted to. We lost touch when he stopped coming round to the Nexus but I remember two things about New York: the smell, and falafel carts. One of those is significantly better than the other."

Jim mentions it as casually as he can because he's had his suspicions about Matt's side work ever since he showed up keeping up with Natasha. That was a woman he Knew was involved in all sorts of stuff so it served to reason that not many people would be up to her standards for running jobs with. But the blind lawyer from Manhattan who needs combat-capable coats somehow was one of the few.

"It's not something I've ever had trouble with but Felix is really suffering for it right now. I'm just glad maybe I'll be able to help him get a full night's rest finally."

Edited 2020-12-31 14:29 (UTC)

What are the odds that the Barton that Jim is talking about would be Hawkeye? In the Nexus, it's hard telling. Seems unlikely, if Matt understands the reality of how infinite this place really is. And yet there do seem to be odd... trends, at times. He tilts his head in interest. "Superhero is a somewhat... loaded term," he agrees, just as casually. "Legally, it's only what they call 'enhanced individuals.'" Which.... technically applies to himself, much as Matt prefers not to think of it as such. And to that end... "The truth is a bit more complicated, if you ask me."

New York, though... the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up in a smile. "I hope it was the falafel," he says lightly.

He may not know what injuries this Felix may be recuperating from, but Matt knows all too well how hard it can be to get quality rest when you've been injured. "It should definitely help. I can recommend a good tea, too, if you want. It doesn't fix anything, but it can make the whole process a little easier."

"Right? I never understood it much." Hangars clink and slide on their rails while Jim continues browsing the robes he's looking over. "All I knew was that Rogers' crew, those kids in the onesies, and a few other people we worked with during the storm...didn't seem much like the others. Neither did Quinn, come to think of it." Her experiences seemed to line up closer than Jim would like with Jim's own though and Jim sure as hell isn't anything other than normal.

Well, save for the whole dying thing. Man, the universe is a messed up place. Easier to talk good food. "I didn't know what falafel was before that field trip, and I'm telling you I would do an awful lot to get my hands on some as good as that again." Jim outright chuckles.

There's one here that looks to be the right size and the color would fit Felix well. Jim hums thoughtfully as his thumb traces over the sleeve before he picks it off the rack.

"Yeah? I'm not really much of an expert where tea comes in. Never drank the stuff until I became friends with folk who prefer it. Felix doesn't much like coffee though so that might be a good route to take."

Ah. Matt's expression clears slightly, that little furrow between his eyebrows smoothing out. "They weren't," he agrees quietly, somberly. He hadn't known Natasha long, but they'd connected, kindred souls of a sort. "It takes a special sort of person to do what they did, and it doesn't have much to do with whatever abilities they had. Or didn't have, as the case may be. I don't know if 'superhero' is the right term, but I'm not sure 'vigilante' is any more accurate."

Food is definitely easier to talk about, and Matt is more than willing to pivot to accommodate. "You can't go wrong with New York street food. I hope you had it in a pita. Falafel in buns is just wrong."

Matt carefully folds the sweater he's holding, placing it back on top of the stack and shuffling down the display to seek out another. "They both have their upsides," he says with a soft chuckle. "Oolong with ginger and tumeric is my go-to recovery blend, but if you want to keep it caffeine-free, look for an herbal blend along those lines. If he needs a hand sleeping, lavender isn't a bad idea either."

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Return of the Blind Ninja

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