Manners Maketh the Man (Mason)

Queues were an inevitable part of New York living. You queued to catch transport. You queued to buy groceries. You queued to see a movie, or a rock concert. To enter a museum. To borrow a book from the library.

So it was no surprise when one had to, inevitably, queue to eat.

In Jack’s experience, there were two ways of handling this inevitability. A person can resent the fact that, in a city of millions, they are being mildly inconvenienced by the simple fact that society revolves around one-on-one transactions. They can shift their weight irritably from foot to foot, clench their jaw, and mutter their impatient frustrations. Or a person could accept the situation as the inevitability it was always going to be, and enjoy the wait.

Jack preferred the latter. Better for the blood pressure.

He stood amongst the line of customers, watching the cafe workers run their hive of industry with remarkable efficiency. He observed the people in the line ahead of him. Jack had always enjoyed New York’s diversity. The melting pot of cultures and ethnicities. Add to it the modern sensation of visible mutants, and even standing in line for lunch could be a fascinating experience. When Jack was younger, mutants weren’t as visible in society as they were now. Indeed, Jack hadn’t seen his first ‘obvious’ mutant until he had been...recruited for special service. Even up until the 80’s, they were a mostly invisible population. Now, though, mutants flourished. Jack thought it was a wonderful thing, to see so many mutants living openly.

Like the young woman currently being served for instance. ‘Slug Girl’ was the only real way to describe her, a type of anthropomorphised slug. Her skin was moist and grey. She ”stood” upright despite the fact that, rather than legs, she had a tail that oozed along the floor. Two antennae sprouted from beneath a brown fringed bob. Jack admired her pretty floral dress. She was muttering embarrassed apologies to the cashier for the trail she had left, that had caused the line to stand a foot to the left of normal.

It was a shame that she felt the need to apologise. Part of Jack wondered if she was unhappy with her appearance. Whether it caused her self esteem any harm. Surely, she had been ostracised for it during her lifetime. That was as inevitable as standing in a New York queue.

He wondered if he should tell her that he thought she was beautiful when she passed him on her way back towards the door. Would that be creepy? Would she think he was being insincere or insulting? Sleazy? It wasn’t like he had any other motivations. Was a compliment really such a crime? Maybe if he’d chosen a younger form..? He sighed internally. Creepy old man. He could hear the accusations already. If not from her, then from someone else.

Inevitable...