ArchivedLogs:Friday Night Plans

Friday Night Plans
Dramatis Personae Micah, Shane, Sebastian, Dusk
In Absentia	11 October 2013 Plans of a variety of types are made. Warning: some biting toward the end.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Micah is settled on the couch in after-work wear of a T-shirt (white with a gleeful T-rex on it, holding an adaptive reaching aid in each hand, under the heading 'UNSTOPPABLE!') and jeans patched in a variety of colours. He has his laptop on his lap and is busily processing a massive pile of new orders that got backed up into this week from being away from work over a week prior. There is...a lot of clicking and a lot of blocks of text going on. You know what everyone needs when they are trying to work? TWINTERRUPTION. Micah at least gets some /forewarning/ of his impending attack -- there /has/ been music coming from the sharks' room, quiet Chopin on the violin, but this stops abruptly. There's a thump. Then a few more thump! Thumpthumpthump! Before Sebastian comes HURTLING out of the room, vaulting straight over Micah's legs to go hide behind the other arm of the couch. He's still dressed from school, black fishnet skirt over a deep red liner, black tank top with its sleeves buckled in silver onto the body of the shirt. "NNnnnyah! {Shane I am trying to work!}" Shane is soon to follow; /he's/ dressed in black cotton yoga pants and no shirt, his violin nowhere in evidence but his bow still forgotten in one hand. He darts up to the /other/ end of the couch, watching his brother with a toothy-bright grin. "Micah's trying to work too," he answers in English, "and lookat you interrupting /him/. Which he proceeds to do even more, leaning over the arm of the couch to headbutt Micah's shoulder. "You should catch him," he tells Micah, pointing to Bastian. "He's closer to you now." When /hurtling/ begins, Micah reflexively closes his laptop and curls in around it. “GAH, what's goin' on?” His head turns one way, then the other, regarding each twin in turn. “Why are we catchin' 'im?” He transfers the laptop to sit safely on the end table, out of the way of any hurtling or vaulting or catching. "Because he's /working/ on a /Friday ni --" Shane suddenly stops, mind cycling back to his previous words. "/You're/ working on a Friday night." When the laptop is moved to safety, Shane /flops/ down to take its place, sprawling across Micah's lap and -- reaching his hands back over his head to make ineffective grabby-hands towards Sebastian. "He's trying to make me go out," Sebastian says with a grimace, backing away from Shane's grabbing fingers. "But oh my gosh I have so much Spanish homework and I thought I'd --" "Sit around like a giant loserface when it's Friday night." Shane continues making grabbyhands, even if Bastian isn't getting any closer. "It's /supposed/ to be fight night but Pa doesn't like us going if nobody /he/ likes is going and /his/ team is pretty much worn to the bone so they're noooot exactly up for --" "-- babysitting." Sebastian /is/ getting closer, now, flopping over to stretch his arms out along Shane's, fingers curling around Shane's biceps. "You /could/ take this opportunity to start your homework ear--" "I /could/ also get chosen to go colonize Mars, if we're talking about things that are theoretically possible but vanishingly unlikely," Shane says cheerfully. "C'/mon/ tell me you're not restless normally this time you're beating the /shit/ out of someone hey Micah do you dance do you want to dance can you put on your DANCING sho -- dancing leg? Hm." Knock knock knock! Speaking of unbabysitters, here is Dusk. Looking worn to the bone as promised; pale, shadowed around the eyes, jaw fuzzed over with dark stubble. He enters shortly after he knocks, slipping inside in faded jeans, no shoes, no shirt; to the twins' keen noses he smells very slightly like beer and a lot more heavily like sex. Sweat. Unfamiliar citrusy shampoo. To less-keen noses he still smells like the far more recent cigarette hanging around over top of it all. "-- Who's going to Mars? They calling for mutants and cyborgs there now?" "Sometimes y'gotta work on Friday nights; it happens," Micah answers with a shrug, giving 'Bastian a sympathetic look. Since...he was working, too, after all. Shane flopping into his lap invites head-skritchings and hair-pettings. "An' it's prob'ly not a bad thing for y'all t'have a Friday night that /ain't/ all pummellin' folks now an' then, anyhow." He chuckles at Shane's enthusiasm. "I always use the same leg. Just change out the foot. Mostly just for runnin'--I use the usual rig for dancin'. Just have t'be careful about a lot of goin' backward or changin' directions quickly." He perks up, looking to the door at the knocking. "Hey, Dusk! Mutant Cyborgs from Mars. The B movie writes itself." "I don't even have anything to wear to go dancing," Sebastian complains. He leans down further, draping over the arm of the couch to slide his hands down, more, fingers brushing down along the long sets of gills at Shane's sides. "Well, put on your dancing shoes, then. Pa's working tonight they won't kick us out of his club. Plus all the lesbians think B's the /most/ adorable." Between headscritching and gillpetting Shane is /basically in heaven/. This is evident enough from the happy squeeze of his eyes, the contented melting of his posture, the pressing up of his head against Micah's hand, but when Dusk enters he voices it with a /sharp/ smile, "Ohmygod come here the only thing that could make this /more/ perfect is your wings. -- You smell good." He doesn't open his eyes for this, just droops. "No, he smells -- oh." Sebastian flushes, burying his face against the couch cushion and just continuing to pet at Shane's gills. "Oh wow a movie that might actually hire people like us as --" "What, pfft, that's bullshit, they'd hire humans and put them in blue bodypaint." Shane is such an optimist. "Most likely," Dusk agrees. They'd hire fully-organic humans and give them fake bionics, too. To go with their blue paint." He is obliging on the subject of wings, moving over towards the front of the couch to settle down onto the floor; one wing lifts to take over for one of Bastian's hands, brushing softly down against Bastian's arm and Shane's side; the other stretches up to give Micah a quick hug. "I wha -- oh." His smile is crooked, a sharp upward tug at only one side of his mouth. He answers this by leaning in, to kiss Shane softly before settling back down. "S'there dancing? Is there /going/ to be dancing? I haven't been dancing since Evolve shut down, there's nowhere good to go." “Don't y'just borrow Jax's clothes half the time, anyhow? S'gotta whole closet in there.” Micah's expression waxes thoughtful for a moment, then he looks down at his shirt. “D'you wear somethin' different than usual t'go dancin'?” He chuckles at the movie casting projections. “Yeah, they have t'go with the most borin' people possible, so they can do the greatest possible amount of special effects an' make-up an' costumin'. How d'you expect them t'get nominated for industry awards, otherwise?” Shane will have to do with only /one/ hand for his headscritchings, as Micah's other hand moves to petting Dusk's wing in response to its hug. “Y'all think y'could go t'Jax's club without it causing a...mess?” "He's full of shit," Shane answers, "he's got so fucking many /mad/ sexy clothes I mean look at what he's already /wearing/ that's perfect for clubbing. He just wants to whine about how I'm interrupting boring-time." "I like my boring time," Sebastian insists, muffled down against the couch. He turns up his hand, fingers brushing gently against Dusk's wing, his other hand still running down along Shane's gills. "If they want the most boring people possible they can /definitely/ take B. You ready to launch your acting career, dude?" Shane tips his head up into the kiss, his gills briefly fluttering. "OK." This is softer. "Fuck dancing, I'm never moving again." "We can go to Pa's club though. Depending on the night. One of the bouncers won't let us but it's because we're underage, not because we're mutants." Sebastian shrugs. "We'll go dancing /later/ though. Maybe next weekend?" Shane cracks an eye open, looking up hopefully at Micah. "I honestly couldn't go dancing anyway, man, I need /sleep/ tonight. Your dad's been riding me like --" Dusk shakes his head, tipping it forward afterwards to rest against the couch cushion by Micah's leg. His wing stays draped loosely against Micah's shoulder. "I came down here for a reason. Now I don't -- frakking -- jesus I think I left my /brain/ upstairs. Micah, why did I come down here?" “See, I ask these questions because I don't really know about these things.” Micah just shakes his head at all the clothing-talk. “'Bastian is /many/ things. Borin' ain't one of 'em.” Shane gets another giggle. “Well, that mission was aborted quite quickly. Maybe next weekend.” His eyebrows loft in tandem at Dusk's choice of words, lips pulling into a smirk. “Came down t'collect shirts? Or...Hive's rubbin' off on you an' you heard me thinkin' about talkin' t'you about where the Harlem refugees ended up?” "Yeah I'll /bet/ he is," Shane says with a smirk. "Lucky bastard, I don't even know who to be jealous of there." His eyes drift closed again, and he brushes his knuckles softly against the inside of Dusk's wing. "I like being boring." Sebastian is slowly, slowly, inchworming his way further onto the couch. Maybe eventually to claim Micah-lap-real-estate too. But for now just. Inch. Inchinch. "Boring people live longer." "Boring people never /live/." Shane's gills flutter once beneath Bastian's fingers, and then lie still. "-- Didn't we see a couple of them at last week's fight?" "Boring people don't --" But Dusk's choice of response was evidently along the same lines as Shane's; he just smile quick and sharp and lets Shane's answer stand. He tilts his head back, chin resting on Micah's knee now so that he can look up at Micah's face. "Uh -- yeah there were a few. We kind of trickled them off into different housing, they're not even all still in the state but -- a lot of them are. And a couple were staying at fight-house yeah. Uh. Are you looking for someone?" “Just 'cause the things 'Bastian likes t'do aren't interestin' t'you don't mean they're /borin'/.” When 'Bastian moves closer, he gets some headscritches, too. Micah's hands are fairly busy with cycling between petting at the boys' two sets of hedgehog-hair-spikes and Dusk's wing. “Question wasn't so much for /findin'/ people, though it wouldn't be a bad idea for folks as need it t'be gettin' medical follow-up. But...more about the /wheres/. I'm keepin' up the home front when y'all go out on mission this time. Just wanna have everythin' in place for the unknown quantities of people y'all are bringin' back. Prob'ly would be better not t'rely on just heapin' people into the apartments here fire-hazard style. Spread folks around a bit more reasonably if we can.” "He's just being a brat," Sebastian volunteers with a grin, unselfconsciously toothy in this company as he nuzzles up into the scritching. "When nobody else is looking he sits down and talks to me about robots." "Traitor," Shane grumps. "Spreading folks out," Sebastian points out, his grin fading into a more serious expression, "is only as good as however many people we have to help them. I mean, there's only so many homes /we/ live in and moooost people getting out of there need a little --" "-- hand-holding before they're good to take care of themselves. If it was just a question of a roof it'd probably be easier. Know more people with homes than we do people willing to put that --" "-- kind of work in." Sebastian frowns. "All the kids tend to end up at school no matter what anyway." "Mmh." This noise is thoughtful, soft enough that it might just be a quietly happy hum at his petting. Dusk closes his eye, cheek nuzzling down against Micah's thigh. His wing droops more heavily, draped against Micah's shoulder in a boneless blanketing. "Oh. Right. Um. I do have some friends -- a couple of the ones who helped down in Harlem? They sort of shuttled people off to temporary housing then, they could probably do it again. -- who /doesn't/ like robots, dude, that's nothing to be ashamed of." “Who /doesn't/ wanna talk about robots? Robots are cool.” Micah /briefly/ reclaims his hands to mime straightening a bow tie before returning them to their various pettings. “This is why I was askin' where the Harlem folks went an' not just where people we know live. Figure if there's folks willin' t'take those refugees, they might be willin' t'take the least intensively-needy of the new group.” He looks down at Dusk, the nuzzling prompting a warm smile despite the topic of conversation. “Would it be better for you t'talk t'people y'think might help, or could y'give me contact information t'set things up...?” "Not everyone comes out broken anyway. Some people --" Shane starts. "/Everyone/ comes out broken," Sebastian corrects, softly. "Some people just come out broken into sharp /edges/." "Some people come out ready to fight," Shane agrees, tipping his head back to nuzzle against Sebastian's side as Bastian inches closer. Sebastian rests his head against the side of Micah's leg, fingers still tracing lazily against Shane's gills. "Think it'll be anyone interesting, this time?" "Nah." Shane shakes his head. "They'll all be freaking boring like you." "You should be Anole's dads tomorrow. He still --" Sebastian winces for a moment, looking almost guiltily up at Micah as he finishes this sentence: "Misses Nox so much." "He only cries when he thinks nobody can hear, though." Shane curls an arm around Sebastian, now, pulling him closer against Dusk's wing. The longer claws at the top of Dusk's wings flex, briefly. "I think /they/ sharpen us. If there's any part of you at all unbroken when they're through it's hard to not want to fight. But --" His brows furrow. "Sometimes there's not. Sometimes it's just a lot of break." His cheek presses against Micah's leg again, at the mention of Nox; it comes with a shiver of tension through his shoulders, but he just nuzzles closer, tipping his head up to press a kiss to the inside of Micah's wrist. "If there's one thing your dads /aren't/ short on, at least, it's love. I think they have enough to share." His brows draw together at Micah's question, and there's a long hesitation before he answers. "Uh --" His frown creases deeper. "Um -- I'll -- get in touch with them and see if -- see what'd be best. I'm sure it'd help if you talked directly. You met Regan, yeah?" “It...seems like the kinda place where I'd be a little /worried/ if the people comin' out /weren't/ a little bit...messed up by it. Ain't the kind of thing you /should/ be well-adjusted to.” The reports on Anole bring Micah's eyelids down to shade his eyes, lips pressed thin. He swallows hard before talking again. “I know...I miss her a lot, too. Jax'n I'll be stand-ins for whoever wants 'em, hon. Go to all the things that schedulin' allows. Y'all two just get first dibs.” He manages a small smile again, at the little kiss. “Met Regan, yeah. Definitely wouldn't mind chattin' at her again. Interestin' lady.” "I adjusted just fine -- oh wait that's the /bad/ thing isn't it?" Shane frowns. Sebastian just huffs out a laugh at this, nuzzling in closer at Shane's side. The mention of Nox draws his eyes up to Micah, and he shifts his nuzzling, pressing in at Micah's side to slip an arm beneath Dusk's wing, around Micah's waist. "I love you," comes, very softly, and after this, "I'm sorry." "Daiki should get first dibs," Shane says reluctantly, "he's -- having a rough time and we get you /always/." He tips his gaze up towards Micah's face, studying his expression for a long moment. He doesn't say anything, but he does wriggle himself a little more upright, pressing two soft kisses to Micah's cheek, just beneath his eyes, and one to his forehead. Dusk slides up, now, off the floor to tuck himself down onto the couch on Micah's other side. His wing works its way behind Micah, resting against Micah's back and Bastian's side. "Interesting, yeah." A small hint of a blush creeps into his cheeks. "-- Hey, did you know Dr. Toure is like. Famous? And he came down to Harlem to, like, give people stitches. Except apparently he's some sort of crazy genius, Regan was pretty much fangirling when I said I'd met him before." “I think it took you some /time/, Shane. An'...you're definitely not scary-well-adjusted about it.” Micah isn't certain whether that is reassuring or not, but it is /true/. “You're the second person t'mention Daiki havin' trouble. Is he okay? Anythin' we can help with?” He blinks again at the affection freely given by the boys, though his expression remains softer this time. “You do,” he agrees softly, on the /always/, before returning to the main thread of the conversation. “Yeah, he's got some pretty neat work out in neuro. An' Regan's into neuroprosthetics, so it's not a big surprise she was impressed. I kinda...the only docs I knew t'call were him an' Io. An' Io's kinda a mini-celebrity, too. Wasn't really expectin' 'em /both/ t'show up.” "Famous? What's he famous for?" Shane looks surprised at this, at least. "Brainthings," Sebastian volunteers unhelpfully. "Daiki hasn't been okay since I met him." "You get famous for cutting open people's brains?" Shane looks a little bit skeptical. "They're both really hot, though. The docs. I'd fuck either of them if they weren't --" For a moment his gills flutter, eyes flicking almost guiltily to Micah. "Doctors?" Sebastian cuts in here, more drily. Shane just drops his head back against Micah's leg, his eyes closing. "You're blushing," he points out to Dusk. "When we talk about Regan." "... brainthings." Dusk gives a sheepish apologetic smile for this vague answer. "He's apparently done a lot to combat neurodegenerative disorders. Actually, you'd probably be interested in at least checking out some of this, B, she says he actually makes implants that help -- uh." Here he just falters again. "-- Brainthings. Just kind of makes me all the more impressed he actually takes the time to -- help people out so much." He bares his teeth at Shane, not that Shane can see it with his eyes closed. "Yeah. OK. I am." “He's got neural implants that may help to restore function in individuals with neurodegenerative disorders in clinical trials. It's...really incredible stuff,” Micah explains a great deal more helpfully. “Would it.../help/ if I tried talkin' t'Daiki? I don't really...know the... But if you're thinkin' parenty-type things might help. I /have/ been accused of parentin' at people a lot.” He shrugs kind of helplessly with that. “--ancient?” Micah fills in Shane's sentence at that look his direction, continuing their running joke. The mere talk of blushing brings a faint pink to Micah's cheeks as well. “She is...kinda an impressive combination of bright an' pretty an' slightly intimidatin'.” "Ksssh." Shane dismisses these joke answers with an uncomfortable twitch of shoulders, a brief frowning glance flicked up to Micah and then down to the floor. "She gives us a place to fight, so she's alright by me." "I think being able to have normal relationships would help Daiki. Past that I don't know what will. Can you really fix people's brains with implants?" Sebastian turns onto his back, gathering Shane in against his side though both boys still just use Micah's leg as pillow. "Tiny little brainrobots, going all Lucien on your brain-chemistry?" "-- Human," Dusk suddenly finishes for Shane, with a small frown, eyes narrowing on the teenager. "You'd fuck them if they weren't human." His eyes stay on Shane for a very long time. He pulls his knees up towards his chest, chin dropping to rest on them. "She's pretty incredible." The small blush hasn't left. "And it sounds pretty incredible. I was talking to her today. Trying to see if she'd heard anything about -- anyone -- even doing research into the kind of brainchips that can control your mind. We're living in a kind of terrifying world." Micah frowns again at 'Bastian's assessment of Daiki, really not knowing how to help with /that/. “That's the idea, yeah. They've actually had deep brain stimulation t'control certain types of seizures an' dystonias for awhile now. Things that are out of testing phases. An' there's other systems in trials now for intractable clinical depression.” Micah pauses a beat at Dusk's sentence completion. “Y'mean all those offers before weren't sincere?” he jokes lightly, in an attempt to make things sound a little bit less...accusatory. “Yeah, there's some scary stuff out there. But some brilliant, amazin' stuff, too.” "-- You can put brainchips in that'll make you -- not depressed?" Sebastian sounds more curious, here. "That's -- wow." Shane just turns his head in against Sebastian's side, not looking at the others. "So sincere, but you're not /like/ -- fuck," he cuts himself off, "that's not really making it better." Sebastian's fingers curl in harder against Shane's side, claws prickling down against his gills. "Look, I didn't -- I don't -- I just --" Shane stops, here, lapsing into silence. His gills flutter -- which only presses them /up/ against Bastian's claws. He stifles a quiet whimper, closing his eyes tighter. "And some stuff that turns Hive into the lab slave." Sebastian's fingers press down a little harder. "I don't always really know what to think of the world. The more I see the more I just want to take my robots and live in the ocean." "He took out the chips," Dusk muses, "I wonder if he could tell us about them. I mean, Hive's has -- who knows what these people are even doing. And they /can't/ have had proper trials like they should -- I'm kind of worried that thing is fucking with his head for good." He exhales heavily, turning his attention back down to Shane. "N... no that's not. Really any better. Thought you were the well-adjusted one, dude." “S'the idea, anyhow. Those are still in testin'. But, yeah...depression is largely chemically-based. They use electricity to stimulate the appropriate regions t'change the brain chemistry, an'... Things get better.” Micah renews his efforts at Shane pettings, one hand rubbing reassuring circles against the teen's back. “Honey, remember the talk we were havin' about adjustment? I get it, okay?” He 'hmms' softly at Dusk's musing. “I can't imagine that somebody with the kind of scientific curiosity that Dr. Toure must possess /wouldn't/ have been studyin' those things once he had 'em in his possession. S'too...weird'n interestin' t'let just sit.” Shane's gills continue to flutter, his body tense as he curls slowly up into a ball. His teeth clench as Bastian's claws press harder to his side, but contrastingly this seems to relax him. "... sorry," he mutters, but then, "Why are you always just /okay/ with everything? Nobody ever -- gets. Mad around here." Sebastian kisses Shane's forehead. "You get mad enough for all of us. -- Did he keep them all? Maybe he's learned -- I don't know. He should get Hive's out, too, though. Or at least look at it I mean it's been /years/ do you think it like -- fused. To his brain. Can it do that? Do brains even grow? -- Also those totally /do/ sound like Lucien. But less – um." "Hot," Dusk finishes. "Maybe I'll ask him. And Hive. If he can take a look. Hive doesn't -- really like doctors. But." His wing rubs gently at Micah's back, his cheek resting against the other man's shoulder. "Does it help if people get mad at you?" His eyes track downwards to Sebastian's claws. "Neither of your dads are really, uh, all that inclined towards -- solving problems with anger." Now his cheeks colour darker than before. “Don't apologise for how y'feel, honey, that's...just bein' honest. An' it just ain't somethin' for me t'be gettin' mad over. You've been through...enough'n more t'have some reaction formation. I would hope for /your/ sake that it's somethin' y'can work through eventually, but...what's there for me t'be gettin' mad over in that?” Micah's hand continues in its little spiral paths along Shane's back. “Dunno if he kept 'em /all/, but I can't imagine him just chuckin' 'em, either. Too much potential for study. Prob'ly there's been some scarring around an implant that's been in for that long, yeah. Chances are it wouldn't even /work/ anymore. But...it'd be a question of whether it's completely safe t'take out or not at this point, too.” Micah completes the sentiment about Lucien near-simultaneously with Dusk, but the word he chooses is 'personable'. Dusk's deeper blushing sets Micah back to petting at his wing, pretty well set in his use of tactile contact for reassurance. "I don't know. I'm always mad. Sometimes things don't feel real. I don't. Always --" Shane stops, his voice hitching faintly. "You know, everyone thinks I'm so --" he tries again, but then stops again. His eyes close, posture shifting to press harder against the sharp prick of claws. "I always thought the worst part of the labs actually. Wasn't. When they were cutting us open or pulling out all my teeth or -- it was everything being so sterile all the time. Nobody was ever angry. Nobody was ever anything." Now Bastian is quiet; his fingers shift, at Shane's side, alternating between small light traces down against his gills and harder presses, claws digging against tough skin without breaking it. He draws in a slow breath, slowly pushing himself into a sitting possition at Micah's other side and dragging Shane in closer to rest against /his/ lap, now. "Sorry," Shane says again. "Sorry, I didn't." His teeth clench. "What if it does still work? What if it does still work and they /find/ it again? Could they just. Make him their -- make him work for them again? Without any of us ever knowing?" Micah's chosen descriptor of Lucien draws a small brief smile from him. "/Personable/? Have we met the same Lucien, that is one /cold/ fucking bastard." Dusk presses his wing into Micah's petting, nuzzling gently up against the other man's neck. Shane's talk of the labs sends a shudder rippling up his spine, and his other wing curls around in front of them to drape, for a moment, against Shane's side. He doesn't answer any of this, though, not the talk of the labs or even the talk of Hive. He kisses Micah's neck, instead, and then settles in more comfortably against him. "There was no actual going-out happening, right? I mean, I can just sort of commandeer Micah's shoulder and /stay/ here?" “D'you get a chance t'really /talk/ about this stuff when y'need to, hon? I mean...I think people /do/ assume you're just...tough, an' that's it. 'Cause they don't know any better. Which means prob'ly not a lot of people...even think t'let y'talk. You /really/ don't have t'keep apologisin' for what you've been through.” Micah rests a hand on Shane's arm while he's being transferred between laps. “I don't know about these chips in particular. But usually things gettin' scarred down makes 'em lose contact with the target cells. We're talkin' very, very tiny scales that things need t'make connections on. When people are actively /tryin'/ t'keep these things workin', it's rough. With no maintenance? Chances of functional reactivation are low.” He shakes his head at the commentary on Lucien. “He's...not. As much as people think. An' /certainly/ warmer than a brain implant!” His chin tilts slightly, reflexively at the kiss to his neck. “Don't think we're goin' anyplace. You're more'n welcome t'stay. An' commandeer whatever.” “I wasn’t going to say tough,” Shane says with a small flash of smile. “I don’t know what I was going to say. A lot of things. an asshole. Or just -- really -- shallow. I don’t know I probably am. It’s just. You spend so long with all these scientists -- they don’t even hate us. I think it’d be better if they did but there’s just -- nothing. Hate’s a /connection/, at least. It’s not even being angry so much as knowing people will get angry /back/. Or excited. Or fucking horny. Anything that means we’re still --” Shane closes his eyes again, settling his head more comfortably into Sebastian’s lap. “-- People,” Bastian finishes. “And who would we talk to? We talk to you. Pa. Them --” Apparently all of Geekhaus is being represented by Dusk, tonight, because he’s who Sebastian gestures to. “But it’s kind of silly sometimes to talk to them, they all --” “-- already know.” Shane cracks open an eye to peer up at Dusk. “You can tell he knows by how many fucking condoms he works through in a week. -- You know, Desi thinks Lucien might --” But this stops, his eye closing again. “What do /you/ see in him, then?” “They had to check up on them kind of frequently when we were in there, I don’t think they’re going to just /hijack/ his brain out here. But it’s definitely still -- I mean, it /hurts/ sometimes. I don’t think it’s doing him any /good/ in there.” Dusk is going about commandeering Micah’s shoulder. Wing curling more snugly around him, head resettling to tuck beneath Micah’s chin. Though the invitation to commandeer /whatever/ earns a small /nip/ to Micah’s neck, Dusk’s hand moving to slip fingers just beneath the hem of his shirt, trace lightly against his waist. “/Really/ whatever?” There’s quiet amusement in his voice, that fades to listen to the twins. A slow heavy swallow rolls down his throat, muscles tensing faintly. “Sometimes helps to say it. Even if people already know.” His fingers press down just a tiny bit harder against Micah’s stomach. “... might be part of why I hook up with so many --” he starts, but then with a sharp smile, “-- OK, but it’s /definitely/ why I fight.” “S'what /I/ meant t'say, though,” Micah assures, lifting an eyebrow at Shane's other suggestions. “Shallow, really? I wouldn't've...that one wasn't anywhere near my thoughts, at least.” He gives Shane's arm a little squeeze. “It's good. T'talk to us. T'know that y'can whenever y'need to. Sometimes...sharin' things with people who've /been there/ can be really helpful, too,” he adds in answer to 'Bastian's concerns of people already knowing. “An' y'don't just have t'talk about what /happened/. It can be...talkin' about how all of that is affectin' you /now/. An' that kinda thing can change over time, too, y'know?” Micah sighs at the question of Lucien. “I can't...fully answer that question without maybe betrayin' some confidences, so I won't be more than...entirely vague. I just. Think he's scared, mostly. Think he's got a lotta childhood trauma that he doesn't let himself work out. Think real connections t'people prob'ly scare 'im as much as anythin'. An'...that his abilities complicate matters a lot.” His breath catches at that little nip from Dusk, his touches proving somewhat distracting. He nods in answer to the question, fingertips stroking at the other man's wing. “Really whatever...just...may need t'wait a bit on...some particular whatevers 'til this conversation's had its chance to run where it needs to.” “I get that one a lot,” Shane says with a small frown. “Because I spend too much time thinking about sex and not enough thinking about -- whatever the fuck this motherfucker,” he pats at Sebastian’s side, “thinks about.” “Makeup, mostly,” Sebastian assures Shane. “and how much of my paychecks I can devote to new skirts.” “See? Weighty. Important things.” Shane’s arm snakes around Sebastian’s waist tighter, squeezing him closer. “-- I /know/ their childhood was -- I mean, shitty doesn’t even really begin to cover it I’m pretty sure whoever offed their mom did the world a giant fucking favour.” “You know, Desi said when -- their house burned down that he was just going to leave her. In there. I --” Sebastian hesitates, his head falling sideways to steal Micah’s /other/ shoulder. “-- would probably have slit her throat first just in case the fire didn’t do its job.” Shane just exhales sharply, at this statement. He opens his eyes again, but doesn’t look up at Sebastian; instead they focus on Dusk. On his fingers at Micah’s stomach. On his teeth. His gills flutter again. “I’d say finding things that make you happy is a /pretty/ important priority. And B has some fucking incredible skirts.” Dusk’s brow furrows at Bastian’s comment on Lucien’s mother, though. His fingers stretch outward, hand splaying flat against Micah’s skin. "Think someone hurts you enough -- sometimes normal limits just. Don't really seem to apply." “I don't get this idea that people seem t'have like sex is shallow. Like it isn't important an' isn't a connection t'people an' isn't /good/ for you, when it's right.” There is the slightest hint of frustration colouring Micah's words. He laughs lightly at 'Bastian's declaration of only thinking about make-up and clothes. “It's hard. That's the hardest thing I've found not t'/judge/ harshly an' constantly. When parents will let their children's lives turn into... An' it's so damned hard t'do anythin' about it, oftentimes.” He nods at Dusk's assessment, skin shivering just faintly beneath his broadening touch. “How do you know when it’s right?” Bastian asks this, quieter and uncertain. “... always feels right to me.” Shane squeezes lightly at Sebastian’s side. “I guess you know, when it feels right to /you/?” Though he also sounds Kind Of Uncertain here. Perhaps having a hard time conceptualizing when it /isn’t/. His eyes still track the movement of Dusk’s fingers. His own hand shifts, moving away from Sebastian’s side to rest fingers lightly over Dusk’s, his claws tracing down against Dusk’s knuckles. “... Matt grew up in the same situation and he was pretty much the /opposite/ of cold.” “/We/ grew up in the same situation,” Sebastian points out to Shane. “... OK Point.” Shane concedes this grudgingly. His claws extend longer, pressing down harder to Dusk’s skin before pulling back. "Let their children's lives or -- make their children's lives? There's a difference, I think. /My/ parents --" Dusk quiets for a moment here, with a small catch of breath at the claws against his skin. His eyes drop, thumb still tracing a slow formless path against Micah's skin. It takes a moment before he responds, fingers pressing down harder but his knuckles pushing back up, scraping harder against the sharp prick of claws to leave thin lines of red beading forth in their wake. He nips again, quick, but a little harder, at Micah's neck. "What does feel right to you?" “People respond in different ways t'the same stimuli. Matt responded by reachin' /out/, t'other people, away from all of that. Lucien...I think has had t'do a lot just t'take care of himself or them an'...” Micah's head shakes, unwilling to dig further into this conversation concerning the rather private man's life and motivations. “Lets is bad enough. I get too judgemental about lets. But makes? I think the judgement might be warranted.” He chews at his lip for a moment, pensive. “I think it's right when it's what you want, an' it's what the other person wants, an' it's not complicated by overlappin' roles or anythin' like that. If it's wanted an' safe an' not doin' any emotional damage t'anybody. That's about it. For me, I pretty much want t'be with a friend or more, too. But I get that some people don't need that.” His brows knit with concern at the sudden red showing on Dusk's hand. “You're bleedin' a bit; is that okay, Du--?” The question is cut off by the harder nip at his neck, eyes falling closed and a soft little sound coming from his throat before he is able to reorient himself to his prior concerns. “If you make yourself hard so that other people don’t have to be --” Shane’s eyes aren’t leaving Dusk’s hand. They watch the trace of thumb, but they watch the red drops more. When Dusk responds by pushing /into/ his claws, they scratch down harder, watching as more bright red wells to the surface. “... you still end up hard.” Sebastian goes very quiet after this. And then a soft growl sounds, rumbling deep in his chest; beside Micah, his posture is very still, and very tense. Shane lifts Dusk’s hand away from Micah, his own moving to replace it, resting lightly where Dusk’s had just been. /Dusk’s/ hand, though, he lifts towards Sebastian, nudging bloody knuckles up against his twin’s lips. “What’s safe?” he wants to know, softly. Sebastian’s growling deepens, harsher, warning, nostrils flaring as the scent of blood fills them. When Dusk’s knuckles bump up against his mouth, he opens it, fastening on to lap at the blood with a throaty hungry rumbling. His eyes widen a moment later. Shane just smiles. Rests his head back down against Micah’s leg, now, body draped over Sebastian’s lap. “Do you think he has anyone that’s safe? After a while how do you -- I mean, if it /is/ doing emotional damage, would he even --” He frowns. “Do you know how long he’s been working as a hooker?” “It’s okay,” Dusk assures Micah quietly. “More than OK.” He already seems to know where this is going; he surrenders his hand willingly. His wing curls around, sharp claw pressing hard up against the vein at the side of Shane’s neck. “Safe’s a lot different to different people. I doubt most people would feel safe right --” His eyes flick to Sebastian, on one of those growls. “Here.” He shivers, at the mouth fastening against his hand. His wing hooks inward to drag Shane closer, though at the moment he’s more focused on Micah’s neck, just nipping again. Quick and hard and this time drawing twin small drops of blood; a soft swipe of tongue strokes them away. “-- that’s about where I am, too. But I make friends easy.” “It's...I think maybe he might've started to on purpose, but can't really...stop.” Micah's teeth find his lower lip again, worrying at it, stopping himself when he feels he's starting to go beyond what might be okay to speak about once more. “I don't know, but I imagine it's been quite some time. He insists...quite adamantly that it isn't any kind of damagin' to him. At least not /now/, but I don't know. What things were like before, either.” Micah's concerned look remains, for Lucien and for Dusk, and doesn't quite fade at Dusk's insistence of being okay. He nods to acknowledge the reply, however. When Shane introduces the blood to 'Bastian, Micah's eyes quickly move from Shane to Dusk. “Be /careful/ with him, okay?” he asks of the other two, knowing how strong the blood's effects can be. The suddenness of the strike to his neck draws forth an unguarded gasp, intake of breath quick and deep, though his posture loosens rather incongruously, shoulders sliding slightly down the couch's back. “Mmn, honey, I don't think...I can do that again just yet.” His eyes close at the licking away of blood, his protest obviously just a matter of calculating /timing/. "It was a rhetorical question. /We/ know. You should ask him sometime," Shane tells Micah, "it might be illuminating." "Or just sickening," Sebastian says this kind of breathily, a little distracted. His teeth press down at the already open nicks, opening them wider with another small growl. His eyes are wide, tongue lapping up blood as it seeps out. "And you wonder why people get high." Shane slides over, more into Micah's lap, closer to Dusk. His head butts up against a wing. "/I/ can do it." Dusk closes his eyes, tensing sharply at the sharp dig of teeth; a small hitched gasp accompanies the pain, though he doesn't pull back. "Careful, /hah/. This is way tamer than what they do to me most Friday nights. I'm tough. I can --" He breaks off with a soft chuff of air, pressing his lips to Micah's neck again, though not biting any further this time. "Sorry. You taste good." His wing curls in, when Shane volunteers, wrapping around the teenager to scoop him closer -- clearly Shane needs to hit up /all/ the laps today. "Can be illuminating /and/ sickening," he says grimly. "A lot of things in our lives seem to be." His nuzzling switches focus; he folds some of Shane's cloth collar up to brush his lips carefully against Shane's sharp-slitted gills, resting for a moment against the strong pulse in his neck just beside them. "-- How bad does it hurt if they get nicked?" “Don't wonder, really. It makes more sense than I'd like it to.” Micah sighs, not contributing any further to the Lucien conversation. “I didn't mean careful with /you/, though that would be nice, too,” he explains to Dusk. “I meant careful with /him/.” His hand on Shane's arm lifts to indicate /'Bastian/. He gives another soft, pleased hum at Dusk's kiss, his other hand reaching to muss at his dark hair. “S'okay, hon. I don't mind fudgin' the schedule a little bit now an' then. Just...kinda lost more blood'n usual this month. Part of that whole 'safe' requirement.” He chuckles softly, then assists in lifting Shane from his own lap into Dusk's to facilitate biting, and also to clear his legs for standing. “I'll give y'all some privacy, though,” he explains, stopping to place a light kiss on the top of each of the other's heads before moving away. "You should have some." Shane reaches to tug Dusk's hand away from Sebastian's mouth, offering it to Micah like this is DELICIOUS SNACKTIME. "It'll get your blood back faster. And be fun in the meantime." Sebastian protests this with a sharp growl, shrinking back a little sheepishly afterwards. "That's -- I didn't know -- wow." "Hurts like fuck." Shane gives Dusk this answer with, nevertheless, an inviting tip of his head, a sharp baring of teeth in a smile. Sebastian is still eying Dusk's hand hungrily, but he pulls his eyes away with a shiver, also getting to his feet. He tugs at Micah's hand. "When they're done," he says, "let's go dancing." "When we're done," Dusk agrees, "I'll be down for most anything." His eyes lift to Micah at the kiss, smile curling his lips. "You in? I bet Jax wouldn't charge you for drinks." The smile sharpens at Shane's answer. His wing tightens, teeth sinking in to the teenager's neck hard and deep. Micah eyes the offered hand looking first tempted, then ready to refuse, then just /gah/ as a thin trail of blood begins to trickle down Dusk's arm. It is almost as if simple /tidiness/ wins out as he bends in to apply his tongue to the other man's arm, collecting the droplet and its trail back to the source bite, then breaking off after a little kiss. “I imagine y'all are gonna be /wired/ after this. Prob'ly should tag along as a chaperone if nothin' else.” He nods agreement to accompany the group. “Y'all need...a first aid kit,” he recalls, looking at Dusk's still-bleeding hand. When Dusk bites down on Shane he adds, “and /then/ privacy.” He leaves with 'Bastian to retrieve the first aid kit. Shane doesn't answer. Just claims Dusk's hand after Micah moves away, breath coming in ragged-short gasps that start to even out once he brings Dusk's knuckles to his lips. His eyes close, body melting in towards Dusk's. Sebastian ignores this, heading out with Micah. But not yet returning, even once he's picked up the first aid kit. His fingers tap against it, head tilting to listen for a moment. "They -- might already be needing privacy," he decides, "let's --" He takes Micah's hand to tug him the other way down the hall, ignoring the sounds from the living room to head towards Jax and Micah's room instead. "Find dancing clothes. S'gonna be a good night."