2019-11-09 - Soup Kitchen

Just because Mason is technically homeless doesn't mean he's not going to be on the other side of that counter distributing soup to the hungry masses. He gets a free meal out of it--he would have anyway of course--but it's more than a simple matter of food, Mason is a genuinely good guy who wants to help people. Or at least that's been the impression people have had of him working here--he's a regular. Often he also sings for the group--though he never attends services, which the members of this church will lament if asked about him. Mason helps someone to their seat--an older homeless lady--before returning behind the counter and humming to himself, lost in thought. The day's almost over--soon enough it'll be time to grab a bowl of soup himself and then, well, maybe he'll be back tomorrow if they need his help.

Abby doesn't really attend services here, either. She does show up at the occasional volunteer activity, full of good cheer and energy. Any kind of volunteer activity. Like she's just trying her hand at everything. She is friendly, making it easier to get involved even if she hasn't even been in town that long and her religious affiliation is suspect. And she is a nurse, of course, and you never know when a nurse might come in handy! She showed up after the end of her shift, already a little tired, but put in a few good hours of work, helping with the soup and the serving it, making conversation. Mostly, listening to people's stories. But by now she is looking a little worse for wear, the circles under her eyes deepening as she wipes at her face with a forearm. "Long day! Oh, what's that you're humming?" She asks with a warm smile in Mason's direction.

Mason grins and looks over. "Something by Kevin Devine. Ever listen to him? I could play it for you sometime, or like. There's youtube of course." He beams a smile at her. "You're a good person. Thanks for helping. I know you're tired from working already, but you still came and helped. Wanna sit with me and chat? I'm gonna grab a bowl. You should get one too, least they can do for your help is give you a meal." He reaches out a hand to Abby to shake if she likes. "I'm Mason. Glad to meet you."

Abby gives it a moment's thought before shaking her head with a little apologetic crease to her brow, "No, I don't think I have! And sure, I'd like that," she returns the smile, then waves off the praise. Literally, with her hand, she swats it out of the air. "Oh. I was just very bored, and Chickpea needs some alone time to think about what she did. That's my cat," she clarifies, then looks around. "It does look like it's winding down. Sure, I can sit and have some soup. I'm Abby!" She introduces herself and reaches out for the shake.

Mason takes her hand and shakes it--his grip is light, and his fingers are calloused from playing the guitar. He dishes up a bowl for Abby and passes it over to her, grabs one for himself, and finds an empty spot to sit. When she joins him he smiles at her again. "Chickpea is a cute name for a cat. Do you have pictures? I basically live for cat pictures." He admits with a laugh, then takes a bite of soup, considering. "Most people when bored find less selfless ways to pass the time." He shrugs. "But you're empathetic. I see it, you can't hide that you care about people." He smirks a little. "I'll stop with the praise though. I've made my position clear enough."

Abby lingers a while by the counter to make sure no one else is going unserved, before finally following after Mason. "Oh, I have a lot of pictures," she says with a light self-deprecating touch as she digs into her jeans for her phone, one hand tapping and scrolling down as she picks up a spoonful of soup and blows on it. "Chickpea's instagram has a lot more followers than mine," she explains, lowering her voice, before flipping her phone over. And... there are a lot of pictures of her calico with the odd quartered black and orange face. It's a very striking look, and Abby does take nice pictures. In some of them, Chickpea is in costumes. "It's not selfless. I like doing it. I don't do it that often. I like talking to people..."

Mason wasn't kidding about loving cat pictures. He's genuinely happy to see them. He pulls out his own phone and pulls up instagram to add the account and browses pictures without bugging Abby to look at her phone. "Is he a chimera? He's got that half and half thing. You know what I mean, right? When two siblings fuse in the womb and they now have two sets of DNA? I read about that. With the line down the face like that, it's possible." He shrugs. "Super cute though. I'd love to talk to him." Yeah that's not weird or anything. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. Or else I wouldn't have met you, right? You seem like someone worth knowing." He takes another bite of soup, and considers. "Fair warning, I'm probably gonna sketch you. I'll show you though, later, if you wanna see."

"I know! It kinda looks like it, doesn't it? But I don't think she is. The line is just down her little face, the rest of her body doesn't really show," Abby has thought about this before, obviously, as she pulls the phone back to herself and scrolls a couple of times. "If she had different colored eyes, I'd probably have her tested to make sure, but I think she's just got a weird face. If she did have different colored eyes, I bet she'd have enough followers to be an influencer. And free cat food." Abby sighs at what could have been. It's a little exaggerated. Taking another spoonful of soup, she smiles. "Oh. Thank you! I'm not that interesting, but I'd love to see. And you're here helping too, I don't know if I'd have it in me."

Mason laughs. "Oh chickpea is a girl, sorry. Of course she is. Male calico cats are rare. Need two x chromosomes." He may not know much about biology but he knows about cats. "Anyway I dunno. I'm better off than lots of people. I'm not on fire, so I have that going for me. " he shrugs. "That may sound flippant but it's about perspective. There's always someone worse off. " he shrugs. "Anyway I sketch all kinds of people. Gotta pass the time. One thing they don't really tell you about being homeless is how boring it can be. "

Abby's smile widens. "Right! I think she just has boring old chromossomes. You'd think she has some kind of special royalty genes, the way she acts, but I'm pretty sure she's just a regular cat," she continues, voice lowered as if she's confiding in Mason. Then she listens while having her soup. "Not being on fire is a pretty good start. It'd be a lot harder to volunteer if you were on fire. That would be a terrible safety hazard," she deadpans between bites, and nods, eyebrows rising slightly. "Oh. Now that you mention it, that does make sense. And it's the sort of hobby you can do just about anywhere, you don't necessarily need all kinds of material, right?"

Mason nods, and stands up, goes over to his bag, grabs his sketchbook, and passes it to Abby. It's full of fanciful drawings of peopple he's met, including some of the people in this room. People drawn as dryads (Cali), as centaurs (Blair), several of a boy smoking on the beach (Corey), as well as fae landscapes and mythical creatures of variuous kinds--unicorns, dragons, chimeras, griffons. Seems his style leans toward the fanciful. "I dunno, I'll have to talk to Chickpea to see if she's royalty. She might be. Maybe she'll tell me how to properly address her and the required gestures of respect--genuflection? I think it's called? Or is that just the pose where you bow to royalty?" He considers. "Well, failing that I'll bring her some catnip or something." He laughs. "Anyway, yeah. The boredom thing is why a lot of homeless folks do drugs. It's just. There's nothing to do. So. Drugs. Not that I mind some drugs, god knows I smoke pot when I can, but the harder stuff can really destroy you."

"Oh, these are really good" Abby glances up from the sketchbook with a smile, then looks down again, leafing through it and letting her gaze linger here and there on the pictures. "I wonder if all great artists were just very bored at some point in time," she muses, then looks up, brows knitting up in a tiny doubtful frown. Her nose crooks a little too. "She'd probably lie and say she was even if she wasn't. How can you tell?" Then she goes back through the sketches to study a couple of them a little more closely. "We do have a lot of drug users come through the hospital. I think some of them became homeless after the drugs, but it does seem to end up like a vicious circle or something."

Mason considers. "Yeah, boredom, or maybe a need for escapism. I used music and art to get through..." He trails off. And there's a moment where it seems he can't speak. He tries to make sound and it doesn't happen, until he holds up a 'wait a sec' finger and clears his throat, takes a breath, and continues. "I escape my problems with music and art. Try not to dwell. If your reality sucks, find another one." He leans back, breathing out. He lost his voice for a second there. "Anyway who knows what she'd say. I'd have to meet her." He pauses. Grins. "I'm good with animals. They say a lot without saying anything. If she acts like a princess she probably thinks of herself as one. Or the cat equivalent."

Abby gives Mason a sympathetic look, waiting patiently when he gestures at her to hold. She's still got her soup to eat, so she does that, one spoon at a time. "We all need to escape some things some times, I think. Mostly I just focus on work and - well, staying busy and doing what I can." The nurse raises her spoonless hand and gestures at the area around them, with the soup counter. Then she smiles again, with the tiniest of dubious wrinkles working its way onto her nose. "There's a cat equivalent for royalty? I draw the line at having to address her as your Rrrrrrroyal Purrfection or something. Maybe I'll bring her by some day."

Mason smiles, and shrugs. "Everyone has a story, you know? Sometimes it's nice to focus on other people's stories and put your own aside. I know that's why I do stuff like this. I'd rather help people when I can--make a positive change in the world, something concrete--than continue to be overwhelmed at my own unsolvable problems." He considers. "Did you ever see The Cat Returns? There's totally feline royalty." He laughs. "You should watch it, it's great." He shrugs. "I dunno, I'm sure she doesn't care what you call her, she's just happy to have you in her life, though she's too proud to admit it. Cats love their people a lot more than they let on. A lot of -people- are like that too. Afraid of showing affection, afraid of being vulnerable."

Abby nods in agreement, "That makes sense to me. I guess it's why I do it, too. Except for the part about my unsolvable problems, I suppose. I don't have any real problems to worry about..." she says, making a face at herself as she leans back, finishing her soup, hands resting right along the table's edge. "But it's nice to feel like I'm helping make things a little better. I think that's why I'm a nurse, too. I mean, it's a good job, but that's why I went into it," she explains with a smile and nods. "Chickpea's very affectionate. Not always, but who is? She's affectionate in her own way and that's just fine."

Mason smiles, and considers his next words carefully. "So, if you want..." He writes down a number on a page of his sketchbook and tears it off, handing it to her. "Here's my number. Feel free to lose it if it's too weird. You don't ever have to speak to me again if you don't want to, and I'll respect that. But if you want, I wouldn't mind considering you a friend. You're a good person." He shrugs. "I know with girls it's kinda hit or miss with this--I don't wanna come off as a creep. So do whatever you want with it and I won't be upset either way. With guys it's generally easier to exchange numbers without coming off creepy, but you know. That's because of our society being horrifically sexist and all that. Men are trash." He laughs. "Some of them."

Abby's smiling. She has a bad case of resting friendly face. She just blinks a moment at the offered page, "Oh! Thank you. But I'm sure we'll talk again here, at the very least. That would be very awkward, not talking. How do you even mime 'We are running out of soup?'" She plays it off with a joke and a small dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it, you're fine. It's not like I'm at work or something... that happens a lot." There's a hint of a sharper grin for a moment, barely there, when he says men are trash. "Some are very nice! I obviously already have Chickpea as a life partner, so they're all out of luck anyway."

Mason shrugs, and signs 'We're running out of soup' in ASL. He smirks. "Sometimes my voice goes and I need another way to communicate. There was a deaf boy I grew up with. It comes in handy. Even if you don't know sign, knowing sign language makes you pretty good at charades, you can communicate with people if you get a little creative." He considers. "But yeah, when I get stressed or think about something stressful, sometimes my voice just." He makes a sign at his throat--'locked'. "It just disappears. Usually but not always accompanied by a panic attack. It's lots of fun." He considers. "Anyway gender and sexuality is all over the place for me. I'm...sorta genderfluid, polyamorous, and pansexual. But still, people who present as women get harassed a lot, and I don't wanna add to that mess." He brushes aside his bangs, and shrugs. "Sorry. Lot of stuff to admit all at once there."

Abby's eyes go wider. Her initial reaction at the sign language is a smile, but that gives away to a feigned gasp and an accusatory little scowl. "That's cheating! Knowing things.," she grumps, then goes quiet and listens, nodding. "I've thought about taking it up for work. It helps being able to speak the same language as the patients. Maybe I should learn it for charades instead," she remarks after a pause, offering him another sympathetic look at the mention of the panic attacks. "That does not sound like fun at all. I'm sorry. It's bad enough to have them, but not being able to communicate would make it even worse. I can't imagine," Abby muses, then just shakes her head and gives Mason a calm, reassuring smile. "Oh, no, you're fine. There's nothing to be sorry about, really."

Mason shrugs. "I can show you, it's not too hard. You pick it up fast once you have the basics." He shrugs. "The panic attacks are just...part of the whole...deal. I mean. I'm generally fairly...um. Level. But there's a reason I'm on the street." He doesn't seem to feel super great talking about his failings. "There's no real point in pretending I don't have problems. But mostly I handle it. There's a technique called grounding...which I'm sure you know about since you're a nurse and all...I use that to calm myself down when I get into a panic attack. Or anxiety attack. Whatever it is, there's a difference between those but they seem the same to me. Panic is about nothing, anxiety is about something? Something like that." He considers. "Sorry, I'm oversharing. I do that."

Abby just listens, giving Mason an understanding look across the table, nodding at last when he addresses her. "We do see a few patients with panic attacks. They usually come in the ER worried it's something worse, so at least there's that. We have a few different techniques we try, because they don't always work for everyone, when we're trying to avoid medication outright." She smiles again, and insists yet again. "There's still no need to be sorry. It must be hard living with that. I've had... I had some, when I was younger. I'm just lucky I got better."

Mason considers. "To be honest I could probably use some medication...But my health insurance sucks." He laughs. "Stock options aren't great either." He shrugs. "You'll find I apologize a lot, it's a...um." He pauses. "Coping mechanism." He hestitates to continue speaking, or maybe he knows if he tries he'll end up being unable to--selective mutism and all, but when he manages to continue, he just says, "Abuse...victims...do that a lot." He breathes out. "It's good to understand stuff like this firsthand, as a nurse. Nothing beats empathy right? Being able to understand what it's like makes you a stronger person and a better caregiver."

Abby winces slightly at the mention of health insurance. "I know. It's one of the harder things seeing people in emergency care just because they can't afford long-term care. It's really frustrating for me as a nurse, but it's a lot worse on the other side of things." She waits when Mason pauses, without pushing further, and nods again in understanding as he explains the coping mechanism. "I just didn't want you to think I was bothered by it at all. Apologizing is fine too," she clarifies with a playful smile, then nods, taking a few long moments to consider his last statement. "Well, I think so. Some people think - well, it's possible to get too involved and have that affect your work, too. I suppose. And some of the finest doctors I know aren't exactly... people people. It probably takes all kinds."

Mason considers. "You mean compassion fatigue. Or uh. What is it...vicarious trauma." He shrugs. "It's a risk. You gotta take care of yourself first. When you go on a plane they talk about affixing your own oxygen mask first before helping others. It's the same principle. You're definitely at risk for compassion fatigue being a nurse. Which means you need to manage your emotions carefully, watch out for warning signs of stress, take breaks, take vacations, recharge your batteries. Not that you need me to give you life advice." He brings up his hand to bite his fingernail, but drops it after a moment--hard habit to break but he's trying. "In the end all we can do is the best we can, and understand our limits. I try not to ask anything of anyone, honestly. But that's another coping mechanism. 'Maybe if I don't ask for anything and not draw too much attention to myself I'll be safer.' It's a lot of leftover thought patterns from a bad situation. Or so I've heard a lot of social workers tell me anyway."

Abby scratches her forearm lightly, distractedly, as she thinks over Mason's words. "Oh, that's true. But it depends a little on your nursing specialty. I haven't picked one yet, but that's one factor. Psychiatric nurses have one of the highest turnover rates for a reason," she comments, then draws a deep breath. "I'm fine. I cope well enough, I think. There's always tomorrow. And I feel like I'm doing something positive, most days, so that helps," she smiles and brings her shoulders up in a small shrug. The smile fades slightly as she listens, giving Mason a look of recognition as he explains his coping mechanism. "They probably know what they're talking about. That sounds about right, anyway."

Mason looks pensive for a moment, but seems to shake off whatever thoughts he's having, switching gears mentally. "Anyway I didn't mean to make this conversation so serious, and all about me. I'm gonna run. Say hi to Chickpea for me." He packs away his sketchbook and grabs his bag. "Thanks for the conversation, sorry if it got too serious. I overshare sometimes. See you next time." He gives her a little wave, then goes for his guitar--which was behind the counter, out of the way.

Abby's expression shifts. It's a subtle thing, a pained look of sympathy for the briefest moment before it's smothered by a warm, friendly smile. "It's fine, don't worry about it. I did get to talk about Chickpea and show you pictures, which is my favorite activity," she keeps her tone lighthearted. "I'll have to bring her around some time! Maybe not here, but somewhere. And I really don't mind listening. Thank you for showing me your sketches, too!" She calls out, then glances at her phone and tucks it away. She remains seated, hands dropping to rub at her thighs for a moment, only standing when Mason finally leaves. She heads behind the counter to help close up.