ArchivedLogs:Organizing

Organizing
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Melinda
In Absentia	2014-03-04 '
Location Home Goods
Evening finds Melinda and Jackson in an average home goods store. She's pushing a cart, not necessarily because they are buying things wholesale, but more for support as she seems to be stumbling a little bit more often than usual. She is decidedly pregnant now, at seven months, the definition around her front giving her the shape of a python who swallowed a ball and is having trouble digesting it. She is carrying it well enough, her height giving her the advantage of not being too front heavy, but it does wear on her, one hand or the other moving to press against her lower back from time to time. Her hefty winter boots provide the triple advantage of grip, warmth, and support. Her long, wool skirt brushes against the ankles of those boots, her leggings (lined with fleece!) peeking out between strides. Her blue coat has been stuffed into the child seat of the cart, her purse on top, a long sweater of royal blue covering her torso. "I know I'm supposed to be shopping for my new place, but I kind of want to decorate the whole Commons," she addresses Jackson with a small smile. "Or at least day dream about it." Jackson is not quite as colourful today as his usual, black skinny jeans tucked into knee-high black boots, silver jacket over top of red-and-black sweatshirt, black shirt underneath spotted with silver stars. Enormous mirrored sunglasses on his face, hair sculpted into hard pointy liberty spikes, jet black with tips frosted in red and purple. "Won't be much of it to decorate for a while yet," he says with a small crinkle of nose, "think all the private homes are goin' up before the common building. Don't have much of a notion what kinda time scale these things get built on." His teeth drag slowly against his lip, hands tucked down into the pockets of his jacket. "But there'll sure enough be plenty needs furnishing once it's done." Mel's hands find themselves inside her purse as they walk, her lips wet quietly as she opens up a small ziploc baggie inside, pulling out a marinaded toasted bread slice the size of her thumbprint. She munches as she pulls over to examine towels, with her free hand, squeezing gently. "You okay, Jax? You seem kind of subdued where I thought you might be bouncing off the walls at the idea of pairing colors and adding ridiculous little decorative bits." she steps around her cart to pick up a set of shower curtain rings, with small 'rubber ducky' emblems on them. "Hm?" Jax's head turns to look towards Mel for a moment, but then looks off into the aisle. "Oh, I'll -- be excited when it's time, m'sure. This week's just been pretty much --" His hand slides up to brush against the back of his neck, head shaking. His lips quirk into a faint crooked smile. "S'no walls t'bounce off yet anyhow. M'savin' my energy for when there's some." "Oh, I kind of know the feeling. Maybe a little bit." Mel gently presses her shoulder against his, jostling him a little bit as she puts the duckies back. "The only reason I'm here at all is because I have to keep my registry lists up to date, for out of town friends. I'm getting ready to pack everything up and throw it in storage. Are you doing that? I emailed a little earlier about proffered housing for people out of their places now. Got something set up at Helping Hands if they can't find anything else." Her attention returns to the towel, her fingers brushed clean on the outside of her jacket before she sets about squeezing the terrycloth again. "I -- haven't actually even started thinkin' about packing yet," Jackson admits with a small frown. "I don't even -- know whether. Our place'll be ready by -- well m'sure it won't be ready by the time -- we gotta be out end'a May." His teeth drag against his lower lip again. "Just feels like there's so much to do between now and then I ain't even had a minute to think about -- moving stuff. S'pose I should think about that," he murmurs with some distraction. "S'just been -- real -- What do you look for in a towel, anyway?" His hand slips back down into his pocket, weight rocking back onto his heels. "It's a delicate balance of soft and plush, but still absorbent - at least in a winter towel. In the summer, I think I'd need one that dries out quickly." Melinda inhales deeply as she runs her hands along the front of another section of towels, lips pursing in consideration. "Then, even if you like the feel of it, I gotta find a color that works for me." Her eyes narrow. "I am just not a burnt umber person." She turns her attention toward Jackson once more. "Basically, in the end, I have to say to myself, 'Do I want to be naked in this?' Personally, I need a bigger bathsheet now, instead of a towel, to cover the bump." She mutters 'blimp' afterward and exhales. "Hey, you don't have to move until the end of May. You've got time. If you want, I can give you my schedules and checklists when I'm done with them and you can change the baby shit to more appropriate topics and use them for your move." "I don't think I've never put that much thought into towels. Mostly just size an' colour. Definitely not season. I jus' tend t'go with -- real /big/." Jax's brows crease, one toe kicking absently against the opposite heel. "What colours do work for you? I go with black an' red a lot. Or. Peacock shades. Or --" He shakes his head slowly. "I don't feel like I got time. Feel like everything's crowdin' in an' it's all gonna --" His lips press together, and he pulls his lower lip in between his teeth. "Probably stick m'family out in the pups' school in the interrim. -- You comin' out t'Game Night after this?" "Well," Mel grabs a large, lemon yellow bath sheet and shakes out the folds, wrapping it around Jackson's shoulders a moment later, getting in front of him to see how he looks with his new towel-cape. "That is what lists are for." She studies him for a moment then wets her lips and loosens her hold on the towel. "How about I send Tove over to you for a while. He's really good at this 'getting organized' stuff and has a really calming personality. Maybe he can help you with a time line and get your family figuring out what your most pressing issue to work on is - so maybe you can allieviate some of your stress - about that at least." Her hands move to rub his upper arms, still studying his face. "As for colors? Right now, I'm feeling pretty primary. Red, blue, yellow - maybe some secondary too. Maybe I've been looking at children's stuff too much right now and am trying to get away from gender binary stuff. Lots of greens strike me as lovely right now too." She inhales and considers. "I'm just indecisive though. I think I'm going to be slipping Tag a lot of cash or food to recolor my place every time I change my mind." She pulls her hands away to rest them on her lower back and to give that a bit of a stretch. "Yeah. Game night. I think so." "I ain't stressed 'bout movin'." Jackson shakes his head once, quickly. "I ain't barely even given moving a thought. It's everything /else/ that -- I don't think lists is gonna help much." He lifts a hand to hold the towel in place, twirling absently to let his yellow towel-cape flare behind him. "Too /many/ pressing issues, maybe. Registration an' missing folks and government torture labs an' people who /was/ dead an' really ain't an' people who's /gonna/ be dead if --" He exhales heavily, letting the cape fall back into place as its yellow recolours into a bright emerald green. "Tag's wonderful. He's saved me no end'a money on hair dye." "Jax, have you considered... forming an organization and sort of delegating some of these duties? I mean, I'm not -- wait, who's dead but not?" Melinda shakes her head at this draws in a sharp breath and continues. "I'm not saying that you should completely forget about something after giving it to someone else's responsibility, but check in with them, help them figure out what to do next, and let them do some of the leg work. Yeah, your worry meter is not going to go down, but you'll have at least some more time to focus on your priorities." She watches her friend twirl, a spark of happiness softening her expression and lighting up her gaze. "He is great. I also like that what he does doesn't smell like anything. Everything is kind of smelly for me right now - including myself." "I don't know if that's really possible," Jackson says regretfully. He flashes a smile at Melinda, lopsided and a little sad. "I don't think nobody else is /stupid/ enough to take these labs on. I mean, I got a team sure enough an' they /do/ legwork but /coordinatin'/ -- that's on me." The towel fades back into yellow; he drops his hand from his shoulder, shaking it out to start folding it neatly again. His cheeks colour dark red, head tipping downward. "Oh -- we. Got a lead on --" He swallows hard, his voice much softer as he folds the towel and replaces it neatly on the shelf. "Just -- gonna have to drag my team back out soon, I think. Got a lab to -- hunt down. Soon enough." "Well, you know I'm here on the receiving end. Thinking about getting some EMT classes at some point, just to help out a little better." Melinda reaches out an arm to snake around Jackson's shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. "Well, at least know you're supported any way I -- well, I know there are others - any way we can. Just ask, and I'll take care of the entire set up for receiving. Talking to doctors, getting cots and clothes and blankets, whatever you need." Jackson leans in to the hug, arm curling fiercely warm around Melinda's shoulders. "Thanks, honey-honey." He leans in to her, head tipping in to rest against her shoulder, at a somewhat awkward angle to prevent the spikes of his hair from poking at her. "Once we got more info on -- where we're headed an' when m'gonna need all the support we can get. Oh, man. Should tell Hive t'build /more/ extra, ah. Guest -- rooms. Have space in the Commons for the inevitable deluge'a -- refugees." He straightens, teeth scraping slowly over his lower lip. "It -- it's lookin' like probably -- Matt's. Alive. An' in one'a those places." "Lucien's Matt?" Melinda is very still when she mentions her former friend, her eyes glassy with unexpressed emotion. "Fuck." She inhales a few times to restart the flow of blood in her body, frowning -- scowling at the ground. "Um. Probably the dining room. It'll probably be big enough, but if we had a multipurpose room too, I guess that couldn't hurt. It'd be nice if the weather was warmer, but no - not waiting for that. Um, I can take a group to the shelter in the hostel space - that's at least pre-arranged. People that seem somewhat well adjusted. Staff can be prepped on what's going on when they arrive and - well, I can't imagine they'll be much worse than some of the war vets." She rambles on unhappily, fidgeting now. She turns and grabs the towel they were playing with earlier and throws it in her cart, starting to push it down the aisle, looking to continue with the trip. "I know it's not as secret as usual, but those videos have already started making waves amongst the shelter staff and in the public eye. That should help." "Lucien's Matt," Jackson confirms softly, head tipping in a nod. He curls his arms across his chest, hands tucking into the crooks of his elbows. "It'd be nice if -- a lotta things. With Hive -- it's gonna be kinda rough. Ain't sure exactly when we're gonna do it but. Soon as we /can/, I s'pose." He follows alongside the card, a slow bounce returning to his step -- gradually, but eventually it's there. "We done this a lot before. We can handle it An' could be all the publicity means we might have a bit more /support/ on our side, yeah." "Yeah." Melinda seems to be losing energy, her lips pursed to the point of pouting. She grumbles after a moment, almost growling. She draws in a deep breath and then lets it out and snifts and stares at the selection they happen to be standing next to. Oh. Look. Bathmats. "Why do they have the wrap around carpets for toilets? Do people really shuffle bare feet along side the toilet to take a dump? I mean, seriously - because all it does is catch grossness." She frowns as she pats at some clean rugs. "Dumb ass rugs." She grumbles again and turns to glance at Jax. "Yeah, um. Support. And helping Hive. I will help with that, too, if I can. I've kind of... had a thought." Jax wrinkles his nose as he looks down at the toilet rugs. "I -- never really gave it that much thought." He pokes at one of the rugs with a finger. "Guess they just -- look nicer? Stay in place better?" He tilts his head to the side, looking back to Melinda. "Help with -- Hive?" He sounds uncertain about this. "What kinda a thought?" "Well, I was getting kicked around last night by this little bugger," Mel is still upset, her hand rubbing at her belly, "so I got stuck staying up late on the internet again." She rubs in one particular location now, all this talk of kicking babies making the baby kick. "and I found that, between the kid and I, we're bursting with stem cells that are just going to fall out on the floor into a bucket in a couple months. I got to thinking - what if Lucien - or someone else that you know could help turn those cells into something that can fix what's going on in Hive's head? They are supposed to be cells that come along, figure out what's needed and then become that." Despite the explanation she's attempting to make, she's quite frustrated still - as if trying to explain a frustrating day instead a possible life saving cure. "Stem cells?" Jax turns his glance on Melinda's belly curiously, teeth wiggling at a lip ring. "Huh. I don't -- I mean." His brows knit together, steps slowing as he considers this with another quiet: "Huh." His fingers clench in against his biceps. "-- Dr. Toure would probably know if -- if anything. I mean, he's like a -- crazy genius with. Brain -- stuff, right? M'sure he'd -- know if." His brows scrunch in further and he exhales sharply. "Ohgosh," he says heavily. "But Hive ain't even getting." Around him the air /darkens/, abruptly, his head bowing. He draws in a slow breath, steadying himself as he forces the light to even back out. "We can ask. We can -- you should talk t'Hive." Melinda straightens up as Jackson starts darkening. "Okay. I'll talk to him." She loops an arm under Jackson's leaning against him a little. "Okay. I ... think I have stared at enough housewares and found an acceptable towel. Would you like to join me for ... smoothies, or something dunked in hot sauce that will make our tongues burn?" "I would /so/ very love smoothies /and/ spicey food. We can pick up a /tray/'a samosas an' bring 'em back t'game night," Jackson suggests. Brightly, even if there's a faintly /stressed/ edge to the brightness that suggests it's just a /little/ forced -- perhaps trying to /kickstart/ himself back into cheer. He curls his arm back around Melinda, though, squeezing gently as he pushes a smile back onto his expression, starting to steer them towards the cashier. "Oh man. An' mango smoothies." "Mango smoothies sound amazing. I will try not to eat the spicy and smoothie in the same cup. Though... a spicy smoothie kind of sounds interesting." Melinda leans into Jackson's embrace before turning her cart back into the main walkway and heading back toward the front of the store.