ArchivedLogs:It's Not Over

It's Not Over
Dramatis Personae Hive, Sebastian, Micah, Flicker
In Absentia	1 January 2014 D: Dusk! D: Flicker! Everything is terrible forever.  :( (Part of the Prometheus TP.)
Location <NYC> The Unicomplex - Village Lofts - East Village
In contrast to the messy apartment outside, this room actually tends to be fairly neat. Clothes in the two laundry hampers, books and clutter relegated to the bookshelf or the desks. It's set up for two, Flicker's neat-made bed on the left wall and Hive's generally unmade one on the right; the shared closet is large, on Flicker's side of the room, the shared bookshelf on Hive's side packed full. The back wall holds a pair of desks side by side, both with their own desktops. The walls are eclectically decorated. A replica of Arya Stark's Needle, a few bright-colored but anachronistically somewhat morbid paintings of Jax's, a Mega Man X poster, a stained-glass suncatcher hung in the window and a collage of feathers framed on one wall. Hive is tucked away into his bedroom, though the door is open and he's not exactly hard at /work/. Seated at his desk in jeans and a his Link-as-Eddard-Stark t-shirt, he's very intently focused on managing some trading in EVE. Even in the middle of chaos, he's gotta have priorities. His phone is also open on the desk beside him, pulled up to a dark map of -- their neighborhood, apparently, with a number of glowing green and blue hotspots on it. His laptop is open on his desk /too/, because being on only /two/ computing devices at once would not be enough; /it's/ open to reddit where he is in the middle of constructing a long response in a thread about Jackson and Terrorism, because Somebody Is Wrong On The Internet. His hair is messy, not pulled back into the stubby ponytail he's been wearing it in, just hanging down loose against his shoulders. Out in the living room, Flicker is sprawled on the couch in khakis and a ribbed dark sweater, legs crooked up and his laptop on his lap, headphones over his ears. There's a young woman on his screen, severe angular face, dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, talking to him on webcam from what looks like a kitchen. Sebastian hasn't been here long, out at Stark for the bulk of the day taking advantage of the holiday to work in peace and quiet. He's been long enough to take a shower, though, less for cleanliness sake and more for the sake of his skin's constant need for /wet/. He's meandering back from the bathroom in no shirt and black cargo pants, flopping down onto Hive's messy bed to pick up his Nook. He doesn't turn it on, just sprawls out on the bed with eyes closing and his finger toying with turning its screen back on. Micah lets himself in the front door at Geekhaus with a half-hearted knock, not waiting for an answer before plying key to lock. He looks just a little less /haggard/ than he has the past few days, courtesy of some actual honest hours of sleep the day before. His hair is still a bit of a mess from his fussing at it, his clothes the typical Batsignal hoodie over T-shirt (Reading Rainbow-dash today) over faded, rainbow-patched jeans. His socks are also black with little yellow Batsignals dotting them. Micah stops at the couch to pat a hand on Flicker's back in greeting before moving over to Hive's door. “Hi, B. Didn't know you were up here. Hive, you got time t'talk?” Flicker tips his head back at the knock, stopping mid-conversation, briefly, to squeeze Micah's hand before returning to his chat. "Ngh." Hive swivels his chair around from his desk, frowning first at Sebastian and then at Micah. "I didn't know you were here either. Go home." He says this reflexively, rocking back in his chair with a lazy slouch that does not seem particularly invested in whether Sebastian goes or stays. "What's up." There's a mental prickle of tension rippling through Sebastian's mind as he smells Micah's entrance, but he doesn't move from Hive's bed. "Am home," he protests, dragging a pillow over his face. "I just got back from work." His explanation now to Micah is muffled, because pillow. His gills ripple quickly along his sides. "Is it true?" Stepping just inside the door, Micah leans back against the wall. "'Pologies, B. I didn't mean t'chase y'down here. I just...need Hive's help. Doin' somethin' that might help Jax." << Somethin' dangerous an' maybe a horrible idea but might help Jax. >> "True? The...change in charges? That's...unfortunately, yeah, it's true. Or did somethin' else happen?" His breath tightens for a moment, as if expecting some /new/ news that he hadn't heard in his day of stop-and-go attempted writing of press release between feeding and entertaining and...mostly attempting to distract Spencer. "Fair." Hive does not argue with Bastian's claim to being home already, a small smile actually pulling briefly at his lips with it. "I am down for Jax-helping but I've already had to talk two separate people out of just fucking /breaking/ him out of jail so --" He shrugs a shoulder. << How stupid are we talking. >> And then, less comfortably: << ... am I supposed to not be telling B we're talking stupid and dangerous, because I think he's had enough of secrets for last year and this one. >> "No, just the. Transfer, that they're /actually/ pushing this terrorism thing." Sebastian shakes his head, pulling the pillow back underneath it. "{Sorry, I just --}" He takes a shaky breath, switching back from Vietnamese to English. "It's hard to know what home is without him. And people are saying he's never going to get out and they could -- could kill him if he's guilty for the -- zombie thing and." He looks up at the ceiling. "I punched someone today." He sounds offhand with this. "... help how?" “No, tryin' t'break 'im out is beyond a bad idea. I'm not...lookin' for that,” Micah replies with a shake of his head. << Stupid enough that we prob'ly shouldn't be discussin' it out loud. Doin' this so /other/ people don't overhear. Not B. >> He moves to sit on the bed beside 'Bastian. “Honey...I know. It's awful. But we're workin' on it. It's why I was over talkin' with Lucien yesterday. He's gonna help us with the media. Get public opinion on our side. Put out lots of video of people Jax's helped, 'specially the ones from Prometheus. Get 'em tellin' how it /really/ is. An' I been workin' on a press release, m'self.” The /punching/ news draws a frown on his face. “B...honey. Are you okay? Is ev'rybody okay?” << You can bring 'im in on this. >> "It -- could be a capital punishment case, /if/ he were convicted of orchestrating that plague," Hive acknowledges reluctantly to Sebastian. "But that's /not going to happen/, because those charges are complete bullshit. Plus the /federal/ government's only /actually/ executed three people in the last fortysome years." He swivels his chair back around, so that he can shut his game off and switch off his phone. Once Micah says it's okay, he nods, the rather uncomfortable mental pressure of his mind weighing in on both the others to facilitate mental communication between all of them. "Flicker's talking to -- a friend who." He frowns for a moment. "Well, she can get in touch with a /lot/ of labrats, if that's what we want." << So what kind of stupid idea are we talking about? >> Bastian sits up, when Micah comes to sit on the bed, scooting to lean back against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. The gills at his sides and along his neck still shift -- faster, when Hive says it /could/ be a capital punishment case. His eyes fix on the ceiling. "Should I make a video? I don't. Would that be better? Maybe nobody will listen because he's my dad." His words are unsteady, broken up as he struggles for breath. "He hit me first." There's a sick unhappy clench to his thoughts as he thinks back on this, not so much for the hitting as for whatever /instigated/ it. Micah winces, paling at Hive's mention of capital punishment, as well. He nods with entirely more conviction than he feels in agreement that it won't happen. His hand lifts to comfort 'Bastian, but doesn't follow after the teen when he backs away. "You an' Shane both could do, if y'wanted. Lucien's helpin' people put 'em together. An' watchin' what they say just in case. He's...infinitely better at this stuff'n I am." The hand lifts again as 'Bastian's breathing becomes more laboured, but he forces it back down with a pained look, instead using it to sign 'Sorry.' "It's...I know honey. It's been rough out there." His hand slides over his still-painful side on its way back to rest on the bed. << We need to find Vector. He has t'tell his /whole story/. Right now all we got is what Jax says vs. what the government...claims but is classified an' so we don't even /know/. That's no way t'fight. >> "Started it, yeah, but who ended it." Hive's eyes cut over to Sebastian, narrowing at the fluttering gills. "B, breathe." He snorts quick and sharp. "I'd make a video but I don't think it'd help. Anyone who knew what /I/ do would probably agree I should be locked the fuck up for public safety. -- You want some ibuprofen or something, dude?" He fidgets uncomfortably at the twinges of pain in Micah's side. << Who the fuck knows where Vector is, though? >> His teeth grind with a slow back-and-forth working of his jaw. << Be good to get his side, though. They don't really fight /fair/. >> Sebastian curls his arms around his legs, lowering his forehead to his knees. His head is mostly still full-up of thoughts of Jax being executed -- in his mind this takes place in an electric chair, in a guillotine, on a crucifix. Drawn and quartered. Stoned. Hung. Not particularly in ways actually likely to occur. << I finished it. >> He sounds angrily defiant with this, fingers curling into fists. There's pain prickling off of him, as well, though his blue skin tends to obscure all but the ugliest of bruising. The rapid shifting of his gills continues. << Isn't, like, every law enforcement agency in the country looking for Vector right now? >> "I'm fine," Micah protests, in fact more of the pain coming from watching 'Bastian than from his side. << We don't gotta fight fair /either/. We got access t'methods they don't. Mirror...already kinda volunteered while we were havin' our media brainstormin' session over Luci's. Ze or Joshua, either one...could copy Spence's ability. Use it t'hone in on Vector's location. Not that I'd recommend anyone actually /bein'/ in the same place as him. Too risky. >> His eyes track over to Hive. << That's where we need you. Just get y'all within range where y'can contact 'im telepathically. Deliver instructions for 'im t'make the video tellin' 'is story. The /whole/ story. Without implicatin' any of the other players, though...no namin' names. That he should also make it seem like it was his own idea t'do this. Emphasise that nobody knows where he is. Make copies of the video an' distribute 'em to a number of news outlets anonymously...maybe by mail. Then /get out/. So they can't track 'im down an' we won't know where he is again. >> "B. /Breathe/." Hive watches Sebastian with narrowed eyes, brow furrowed in concern. << Hard to jump near a person but not to them, though, isn't it? Might have to just risk it. Dunno though. Joshua's way better at it by now than Spence is. Though, fuck, after all this shit Vector could probably use actually seeing a friendly face, I can't even fucking /imagine/ -- >> His head shakes quickly. << Yeah, that sounds. At the least it couldn't hurt. Uh. So long as none of us get caught. >> Sebastian's forehead stays pressed to his knees. << Do we even know he's still alive? >> Even telepathically there's a hint of strain to his words, thoughts beginning to swim a little dizzily with a continued lack of sufficient oxygen. << If I were responsible for all of that death, I'd have killed myself already. >> Micah finally breaks down, moving to 'Bastian's side of the bed and pressing down at his gills unless he physically resists. << I have no idea. Prob'ly ought t'discuss it with Joshua or...whichever one of 'em is willin' an' feels most like they could pull it off. I know...I feel /horrible/ for Vector. But we can't risk people bein' in the same place with 'im if we can avoid it. All that'll do is...confirm suspicions. Get more folks arrested. This is a serious gamble. That's why I'd rather have you there. Do it at a distance if y'can. Keep all communication silent. Be able t'monitor for surveillance. >> His head shakes in answer to 'Bastian's question. << Think he might've killed 'imself long ago if not for fear of what 'is ability might do if he died. He...told me he'd rather die than go back t'Prometheus because he was afraid of what they'd make 'im do. He didn't want t'hurt anyone. >> << Could risk it if there's really nobody around. If they had him under /electronic/ surveillance of any kind they'd've brought him in already. They just straight don't know where he is. If it's safe to go nearer him -- >> Hive shrugs, a little tiredly. << You killed one person and how many hugs did you need. I mean, multiply that by a million who didn't deserve it. >> He blows out a sharp breath. << I'd've shot myself, >> he agrees with Bastian, << Jegus. That is the /shittiest/ fucking -- he lost the genetic lottery hardcore. >> The mention of being afraid of what Prometheus would make him do presses his lips together thing. << They were already trying to use him for all kinds of terrible. Targeted diseases. He didn't want any of this shit. >> Sebastian is slightly trembly beneath Micah's hands. He doesn't move away, just sitting there in place as his gills slowly start to press down flat; there's an uncomfortable mix of feelings from him, very badly wanting to lean into the touch and very badly wanting to cling tight to /being/ angry at Micah. He draws breath in in sharp ragged gasp, finally, gulping at air like he's just surfaced from drowning. << We all did, >> he finally says. << But he did the most. >> << Vector ain't a /murderer/. >> Micah jumps in to defend quickly. << His power accidentally acted up with the horrible...things that /other/ people did /to/ 'im. He's not...like me. It's not his /fault/. >> His teeth worry his lower lip as his hands continue to stroke down 'Bastian's gills more firmly. << I just...don't want anybody else...I can't. I can't have any /more/ people gettin' hurt because of what /I/ did. Please just...if you guys do decide t'go through with this...be as careful with /yourselves/ as possible, too? Need t'protect /you/. /And/ make sure we don't mess up an' get Vector caught. 'Cause if they get 'im again...all of this has just been for nothin'. Breakin' 'im out an' hidin' 'im an' the plague... >> << No, he's not. But I don't think he's sleeping well at night anyway. And what you did? You had to do. The fuck other choice was there, that man was going to kill as many mutants as he could. >> Hive's teeth grind slowly again. << Starting with your family. You had to protect them. But that hasn't helped your dreams at night either. Hypothetical dreams anyway since you don't fucking /sleep/ anymore. >> He rubs his knuckles against his eye tiredly. << We'll be careful. But this shit's always been for nothing. >> "Don't fucking say that," he's bothered by this last thought from Sebastian enough to slip down out of mental speak and just narrow his eyes on the boy. "The world's shitty as fuck but there's nothing wrong with /you/. Or any of us." Sebastian's gills push back up against Micah's touch, clearly still aiming to misbehave, though for the most part they stay quiet enough for him to breathe. His eyes squeeze shut; he struggles, still, against the urge to just collapse into the touch. << It's not murder, >> he answers Micah sharply. << It's not murder when it's self-/defence/. He straight out /said/ he'd come after all of us. Hurt everyone just to hurt Pa. What else could you /do/? >> He tenses, closing his eyes when Hive speaks. "Ngh. Have you /looked/ at me lately, there's nothing /right/." << No, it hasn't...been for nothin'. We're...savin' people. Stoppin'...genocide. That's not /nothin'/. >> Micah's words are all wrapped up somewhere between hurt and anger. He presses harder against 'Bastian's gills. Then, with the teen's last statement, he steps in, /hauls/ him closer, wraps his arms around him fiercely tight and holding down the longer stretches of gills at his sides. “There is /nothin'/ wrong with you, B. You're /you/. An' you're my /family/ an' I /love/ you.” Further planning involving Vector is, at least temporarily, derailed in Micah's mind. Hive grunts, something sharp and irritable as he slouches back in his chair. "Maybe. Yeah. Just hard for me to see the bigger picture right now, Jax is my --" His eyes close, lips pressing together with an abruptly nauseated look. He draws in a slow breath, pushes it back out again. At length his eyes open again to look over at Bastian. "Yeah. I see you, B. I've seen you a long-ass time. Just wish /you/ saw what I do." Sebastian lets out a ragged breath, curling immediately into the embrace. He lifts his hands, wrapping his arms tight around Micah and curling his fingers hard into Micah's shirt -- /possibly/ neither of these things is particularly pleasant, with lingering bruising and the sharp prickle of his claws through fabric to poke down against skin. His thoughts are an unhappy churn of /everything/ wrong with him; his face mashes hard into Micah's chest. "It's just," he finally manages, "all of this. /All/ of this, Vector and the zombies and Pa may be /dying/ and none of it would be /happening/ if we were just. Not. Freaks." "Your what, honey? It's okay to...I don't know why ain't nobobdy willin' t'just /say/ things any more..." Micah's head shakes, already so frustrated at all the half-truths and hiding he had to engage in leading up to Malthus's murder. All the cloak and dagger continuing even now surrounding Vector. The constant watching of words in his own /home/ because of the constant vigilance of Homeland Security. Micah just curls his arms in tighter around 'Bastian at the squeezing and prickling and aching, as if in /defiance/ of the things that would continue to cause any of them pain. "It is /not/ your fault. Y'all are /not/ the ones causin' it. It's the people who just can't...let people live. When they're different an' they got somethin' that they /want/. That are so full of hate an' envy. S'like blamin' gay kids for gettin' beaten just 'cause, well, they shouldn't've been /gay/. You don't gotta apologise one /bit/ for who you are, honey. They've got...so much more than apologisin' t'do. For the evil things they put y'all through." Hive shakes his head, dragging himself up and out of his chair. << May as well find Mirror or Joshua and go do this. Not like waiting's going to make anything better. >> His fingers run through his hair, pulling it back to twine an elastic off his wrist and around his hair in a low ponytail. He reaches for his phone, but then leaves it where it is on the desk. "Not a single fucking one of you would be in my life at all if we weren't all freaks. The rest of the world can go fuck itself. I'm hanging on to that." He claps a hand on Micah and Bastian's shoulders each, and turns to head out. Sebastian's gills press up against Micah's arms; he exhales sharply when they press back down. "/Really/? /You're/ going to ask why people aren't being honest with each other." He doesn't pull away, though, still squeezing Micah tight. "Maybe they shouldn't've been gay," he says grumpily. "It's just kind of inviting terrible." He tips his head to look up as Hive leaves, his grip only now starting to slacken. "... don't think we're worth all this." Though his thoughts only say, don't think /he's/ worth all this; he's thinking over what his life would be like without everyone /else/ and coming up with a very bleak picture. << Thank you, >> Micah offers silently as Hive exits. He pets the gills down with his fingers that he isn't able to reach just by squeezing in with his arms. "B. Honey, please...that isn't...remotely fair. I'm always, /always/ honest with all of you. I just...had t'keep this /one thing/ quiet. I said everythin' I /could/. What was I s'posed t'do? I couldn't just.../tell/ everyone what I was gonna do. It's not like I was plannin' a /picnic/. I had t'keep you all away from it t'protect you. An'...Jax. He would have /stopped/ me. Malthus would still be out there an' still tryin' t'kill /all of you/ if I'd said. If I'd said...he would've stopped me 'cause he's a better person than I am." His eyes scrunch closed tightly. "I think you're worth it. What I've...what I did. I did it because I love you all so much. That's...how much you're worth t'me." "Kind of a picnic," Sebastian says with a grimace. "I'd have done it with /relish/. He /shot/ Pa in the face. His people shot /you/. I don't know why you feel /bad/ about this. He would've stopped you and he would've been /wrong/, he'd just have needed time to see that." He looks slowly up at Micah's face, his brows rumpling together. "Just. But. You haven't been sleeping or eating or -- what's the point? I mean. What's the point of protecting us if it's going to tear /you/ up so bad." Micah's head just shakes at the thought of people being happy about Malthus's murder. “Murder ain't never right, sugar. S'just.../less/ wrong in a few real...specific circumstances. I know. I /know/ killin' Malthus was less wrong than lettin' 'im torture an' kill all of you, but the /wrong/ of it still...it's heavy.” One of his arms moves up to curl around 'Bastian's shoulders, pulling him closer. “I just need time, honey. T'let the weight lift a little. An' /havin'/ all of you is prob'ly the only thing that'll get me through it. I'm /hurt/, honey, but I'll get better. That's every kind of preferable t'y'all bein' /dead/. Don't get better from /dead/.” A subtle hint of a smile actually emerges on his features. “Slept almost all day yesterday. Would've missed midnight if Shane hadn't woken me up. Drank cider. Came down an' ate gingerbread with Spence. S'gettin' better. S'just slow.” "I don't know. I don't know about /right/ but it's sometimes /necessary/. It's like. Hunting deer. I'd /rather/ not kill anything but sometimes you need to, to live. You can't beat yourself up over it. Survival's kind of the strongest drive we have." Sebastian's grip relaxes further, hand now just resting against Micah's back. "Okay. But, um. /While/ you take -- time how can I help? Because when you're not sleeping all night I just want to hold you for kind of ever." Micah squeezes 'Bastian a little tighter and leans in to brush a kiss to his forehead. “This...this helps. Just havin' you.” The corner of his mouth twitches upward slightly again. “An' havin' you boys help t'take care of Spence while he needs extra attention. An'...prob'ly it doesn't hurt for people t'/make/ me eat, even if I don't want to.” Another kiss lands on 'Bastian's cheek. “But mostly this.” "School's starting again in a couple days." Sebastian sounds miserable about this, for once, despite his usual enjoyment of classes. "I don't want to leave you alone. You'll spend all /day/ sad and not eating and -- and you /shouldn't/ be alone and the guy today said he was going to kill me and you and /Spence/ and I don't think he's /going/ to he was just yelling but /someone/ might it was all over the news where we /live/." His arms squeeze tighter around Micah again. "But this, you can. You can have this." Out in the living room it's been quiet. Flicker's webcam conversation has long since finished, Hive has left. But now, somewhat abruptly, there is a sharp ragged gasp, a strangled: "-- no --" A clatter as Flicker's laptop is unceremoniously displaced to the floor with his abrupt jump away from the couch and back into the bedroom, eyes wide and his fingers curling into his hair. "-- Hive. Oh no oh right he went. Out. Away. Ohno." “It's okay, honey. I'm goin' back t'work t'morrow. Spence is goin' back t'school on Monday. We'll make sure he always has someone t'drive 'im an' walk 'im all the way t'class so he's safe. I'll...set alarms an' eat when they go off whether I want to or not.” Micah's jaw clenches at the reports of further threats to Spencer. He's about to speak again when Flicker's exclamations filter in from the living room. He releases 'Bastian to hurry out to Flicker's side. “Honey? Flicker? What happened? Are you okay?” "It's probably not hard to find out where you /work/ either though and your van is /kind/ of distinctive and you're /not/," Sebastian says with a rather disgruntled note, "even any good at running away and how am I supposed to go to class when someone could be /killing/ you and --" He stops abruptly at the gasp from the other room, stiffening in Micah's arms. He lets go, too, turning sharply towards Flicker. He doesn't ask anything, just looks at the young man with a distinctly apprehensive expression. Flicker just shakes his head, staring at Hive's empty seat as though he can /will/ the telepath back home. His fingers stay scrunched up in his hair, his eyes not meeting the others'. "They took Dusk." Micah doesn't get around to answering 'Bastian's concerns, locked in on Flicker's obvious distress followed by...news. “They? Was Dusk arrested?” His brow crumples, hands falling to hang loose and helpless at his sides. “What did they /charge/ 'im with?” Sebastian's eyes shoot open wide. His claws extend slowly, muscles tensing and a low harsh snarl growling in his throat. Flicker nods mutely, at first, eyes still searching the room futilely. "Arrested him, I don't -- I don't even know when it just. Came up on the news, I --" His hand drops from his hair, arms wrapping around his chest. "I didn't even understand at first, they said. /Ryan Holloway/, it didn't even /register/ who they. They said he was -- part of Jax's /terrorist cell/, part of the /plot/ to -- with Vector, to -- How could anyone think something so ridiculous?" “Oh,” Micah says simply, at first, a hollow tone. “Oh.” A shaking hand reaches up and covers his lips with its fingertips. “Ohno. Oh...no. I...what...will. I'd almost finished. The press release t'give t'Lucien. I'm gonna. I'll finish it. An' get 'im. An' tape it oh. I'll get it. Make it. Send it out tonight. An' Hive's off now. With...we have a plan. Maybe...for Vector's side of the story. I don't know what else t'do.” A hint of panic swirls back in through his broken sentences. Sebastian's gills ripple quickly, his head shaking in hard denial. "No -- no no. No. They can't, they --" There's a slow creeping horror in his expression as he stares at Flicker. Then stares towards the door. Then back to Flicker. "But if they -- if they know Dusk was -- was there then." His head shakes again, black eyes impossibly wide. "No -- please, how can I. What can I do." Flicker bobs his head in a mechanical nod. "OK. Video. Right. OK. Maybe I should do that too. I just -- I think I need to --" He looks to Sebastian, dropping his gaze at the teenager's look of horror. He nods again, arms tightening against his chest. "If they know Dusk was with Jax there, they probably know I was too," he agrees softly. "I should probably --" He shakes his head quickly. "I don't know. I'm bad at this," he tells Sebastian. "Just listen to Lucien, he'll help. I need to – go." "Ohno...this isn't s'posed t'be what happened. It was...s'posed t'be /over/. This is...they're just...takin' everyone." Micah grips hold of the arm of the couch. "I shouldn't've. I should've just...let 'im live. Maybe...we would've been okay. He'd been threatenin' for /so long/ an' hadn't." He sucks in a deep breath, pushing it out roughly, trying to steady himself at the sight of 'Bastian's discomfiture, trying to keep it together for him. "No. No. Okay. We're gonna. Just keep the game plan we already had. Videos. Lots of videos. Ohgosh, they aren't gonna /feed/ 'im, are they? I been...forgettin' t'make 'im eat an' now they aren't gonna..." He forces another deep breath. "It's still a holiday. T'morrow mornin'. I'll call /every/ disabilities lawyer in the /state/ until one will help. Get 'im transfusions. Frame it as a medical condition an' we should win that one. He can do transfusions, right?" Sebastian curls his arm slowly around Micah, when Micah grips the couch. Despite his tiny stature there's a sudden firm strength in his touch, strong and supportive. "Okay." The fluttering of his gills slowly quiets. "OK, let's. Let's go home and do this. They -- probably won't feed him," he agrees, "not at first but they'll /have/ to they don't want him to /die/. But we'll -- we'll go do the videos. Explain to everyone. -- Flicker if you. If you need anything just. /Anything/." "He'll die if they don't." Flicker's still looking at the floor, but then starts to move. Grabbing a backpack from his closet that -- actually already seems like it is /packed/ for hitting the road, though he opens it up to add a water bottle off his nightstand and a pair of inhalers to the mix. "He /can/ -- I mean, it'll keep him /alive/. But only barely. And his immune system'll be so knocked out something /else/ might kill him anyway. But -- yeah. Lawyers. That'll be good, if they can -- it /is/ a health concern." He's stooping to grab his boots, tie them on. Add more warm layers to his sweater-and-turtleneck. "It'll be okay." He says this with a small smile to Sebastian. "Just -- look after Hive for me, okay? Just till I get back. He doesn't think he needs it, but he does." Micah wraps an arm back around 'Bastian, leaning into him. "Okay. That's...still the plan. Videos t'go out t'night. Phone calls t'lawyers in the mornin'." He watches Flicker's movements, watering eyes briefly in danger of tears before he blinks them away. "You're...ohgosh, you're leavin', aren't you. D'you need...can we get you food or...or cash? You'll need cash for everythin'. I've got a sleepin' bag..." Yet again, he forces a heavy breath. In, out. Slow the panic, stop the spill of words. "Okay." Sebastian continues to hold Micah tight. "I will. He -- I will. Just -- just be careful. Everything's falling apart already, you need to -- be safe." His gills flutter once quickly. "Cuz they're going to get out. And we gotta -- be here for everyone. When this is over. It's /going/ to be over it has to be." Flicker's grin is quick and a little crooked. "Micah, who's got cash to spare?" He stands, crossing over to the others to wrap his arms quickly around both of them. Brief, but tight. Then steps back. "I'll be in touch, I promise, I'm not going to just disappear. I just -- might, uh." He rubs his palm against his face. "... need to disappear. Be safe, OK? And yeah. This is going to be over." He offers a last quick smile, then scoops up his backpack. A quick flurry of motion has him grabbing his coat from by the door, and then he is gone.