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Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve
In Absentia	2016-01-22 "{Fear pushes people all kinds of ways. I'm still always trying to learn the best way to fight /that/.}"
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's a very picturesque evening, the setting sun lends a strange pinkish cast to the storm clouds gathering overhead. The snow has only just begun, and the air is crisp but not punishingly cold, hardly any wind to drive the fine drifting flakes as they fall. There are plenty of people out walking their dogs, working out, grabbing last-minute supplies, or getting an early start on their Friday nights. Steve gazes around him in quiet appreciation as he walks. He wears a navy blue peacoat, brown corduroy pants, and black combat boots, a rainbow-banded scarf wrapped around his neck and a knit cap on his head that bears the same red, white, and blue design as the shield slung across his back. His hands are in the pockets of his coat, but there's no tenseness in his shoulders to suggest he keeps them there for warmth. There is nothing quiet about Obie's appreciation. The beagle is bounding eagerly ahead, stopping intermittently to snap at falling snowflakes, chase after them as they drift by. At the moment he's gotten his leash tangled around the leg of a bench, whining sadly now that he can't figure out why he is no longer moving forward. Jax has been walking alongside Steve, though now he stops, crouching, to unwind Obie's leash from the bench. Next to the other man he's blander; heavy fleece-lined grey cargo pants, hiking boots, black canvas jacket, red and black hat and gloves and scarf. By the time he's freed Obie from his bench, a slightly shy pair of teenage boys have approached Steve, pointing at the shield and nudging at each other before one finally pushes the other into approaching first. "Hey. Hey, you're -- you're /him/, right?" Steve had also stopped to wait for Jax to untangle Obie. He smiles when the young man addresses him, but then blinks a few times at the question, momentarily unsure. "Steve Rogers." He extends a hand (wrapped in red knit gloves) to shake. "And I do prefer 'him'. {Do you speak Spanish?}" Nevermind that his own Spanish isn't stellar, his accent veering wildly between French and Italian. The boy who had pushed his friend forward lights up, at this question, bounding eagerly forward to pump Steve's hand enthusiastically. "{Oh my god, see this, Captain freaking /America/ he's asking /do/ I speak Spanish. Hey-hey-hey, can you, can you sign my phone case, my sister she's /never/ gonna believe this.}" He's pulling his iPhone out of his pocket -- it's in a sleek white case emblazoned with Steve's shield logo on it, patting at his pockets hopefully. Jax winds Obie's leash around his wrist to shorten it -- the beagle is rearing up excitedly, trying his hardest to jump at New People, though Jax keeps him tugged close to his side as he approaches. Pulls a black Sharpie from a pocket of his messenger bag to offer it to Steve with a lopsided smile. "{Oh, man, thanks, I just can't believe --}" The boy's chattering stumbles to a halt as he looks at Jax. Frowns. Takes juuust a half step back, one hand resting on his friend's elbow. A little less certain, a little more edged, eyes skipping kind of nervously between the two men now: "{... it's really you.}" It's hard to say whether the pink on Steve's cheeks is an artifact of the cold or of his fan's gushing, but it's obvious he's no stranger to being asked for an autograph. He accepts the pen from Jax with a "{Thank you}", then raises an eyebrow at the boy. Looks down at Obie (though it seems improbable anyone could interpret the beagle's excited prancing as aggression). But it only takes him a few seconds to divine the actual source of his sudden discomfort. "{You have no more to fear from him -- or the dog -- than me.}" The first boy is sticking close to his friend's side, watching the two now with a new fidget in his posture. "S'cool, we ain't scared of no dogs, man." He's not actually even looking at Jax, eyes dipping down to Obie and then lifting back up to Steve. Jax's cheeks have flushed slightly pink, too. He touches Steve's elbow lightly, his smile a softer sort of thing. "It's fine," he says quietly. "I'm just going to take Obie into the dog run, 'kay? I'll be right over there." His hand brushes down against Steve's arm as he tugs Obie gently away to cart him off -- not without a brief detour in the form of chasing after a pigeon -- into the dog park. The boy with the Captain America phone relaxes as Jax turns to go. Holds his phone out to Steve hopefully. "{What're you doing with that one? You know he's like, a criminal, right?}" Steve's brows knit, but he nods all the same, his hand trailing after Jax's briefly as if drawn along magnetically. He uncaps the sharpie and accepts the phone, though, and puts his signature in beautiful, flowing cursive across a blank spot on the case, below the shield. "{He's my friend,}" he replies quite simply, returning the phone. "{You know that /I/ was arrested, too? For the same thing.}" "Whaaat?" Both the teenagers say this somewhat in tandem, a little incredulous. The paler of the two snorts. "You go around beating on women?" From his friend: "{Seems like that would have make the news. Nah, man, I don't think you're like one of /them/. You don't do that kind of shit.}" He takes the phone back with a bright grin, clinging to it tight. "/Sweet/." For a moment he just stares at the signature. "Oh /man/ {thanks.}" He jostles his friend roughly as he pockets the phone, then smiles bright back up at Steve, holding his hand out for a fistbump before his friend starts to pull him away. "{This make my whole night, Captain.}" "Beating on --" Steve only half echoes this before catching himself and switching back to Spanish. "{-- women?}" But the boys are already blythely moving on, and he bumps the offered fist with a sort of perfunctory "{Good night.}" He stares after the teenagers for a moment. Then turns and makes his way to the dog park, hands shoved back into the pockets of his coat. Stops outside and watches Obie tearing around the snowy enclosure for a moment, then lets himself inside through the double-gated entrance. His expression is still pensive and tight when he returns to Jax's side. Lifts one hand to touch the other man's shoulder, gently. "Hey." On the cold snowy evening the dog park is not very crowded; Obie is chasing exuberantly after a wiry-haired brown mutt with lopsided ears in a losing battle for possession of a muddy piece of knotted rope. Jax, having thrown the rope for them -- neither dog seems particularly keen on bringing it /back/ -- has contented himself with sitting on the edge of a wooden table, feet planted on its bench seat, watching the dogs at play. He looks up wth a quick -- if slightly worn -- smile at Steve's touch. "{Were you properly patriotic?}" Steve snorts, a short huff of a laugh. "{I wrote my name on a phone. Is that patriotic?}" He leans against the table next to Jax -- carefully, as is his habit with furniture of unknown fortitude. "{It is strange, to me, how people see you. I was not here yet, when you were arrested before. Not seen the news from then.}" A frown creases the space between his blond eyebrows. "{So I know you as this sweet, wonderful, caring man. But they see...}" His head shakes slowly. "{Doing your part for the youth of today.}" Without much thinking about it, Jax shifts closer to Steve, sliding a few inches nearer along the table when the other man leans against it. His fingers fidget together, playing at the knit fabric of his convertible glove-mittens. Pulling the mitten half back, tucking them back over. His head tips back down, breath expelled in a cloud of frosty white as he looks over at the pups. "{A monster?}" His tone is light, despite this. "S'aright, m'used to it. /I/ know who I am. {Most days, anyway.}" His hands rest down on his knees, fingers curling there as he looks back up at Steve. "I been arrested a whole lot. ... s'pose you might see me different if you'd /been/ 'round to see all that, huh?" Steve drapes an arm across Jax's shoulders. The entire series of movements seems at once casual and quite deliberate, from the subtle twist of his torso toward the other man to the squeeze of his hand on his shoulder. "{Maybe,}" he admits. "{The news, I always}...take it with a grain of salt. {But if I didn't know you? And all I had was the news?}" The shrug of his shoulders is barely visible, but easily felt. "I'd like to think I would have reserved judgement -- or, better yet, done my own research and drew my own conclusions. Hard to say, since that's not how it happened." He pauses, turns away from the dogs momentarily to look down at Jax. "{Those boys said you...beat women?}" Very quiet, very neutral. There's a faint flush that rises into Jax's cheeks, darkening them even as he nestles into the drape of Steve's arm with a very quiet sigh. "{I don't know if you should -- these days seems like you've had paparazzi /everywhere/ --}" Not that he's pulling away. His fingers squeeze tighter at his knee, lips compressing but his eye not moving away from Steve's face. A muscle tightens in his cheek. "{Was what I got convicted for. Assault. Three counts.}" Steve chuckles, his breath visible as a faint white cloud. "{If putting my arm around a man I care about is enough to make the papers,} I'm resigned to it. {I'm not going to stop, unless this makes /you/ uncomfortable.}" Though here he pauses, considering. "{Half of your friends...have probably been cast as your lovers, then, in the news.}" It's not really a question. He searches Jax's face, his own expression somewhere between concern and skepticism. "{What actually happened?} "{I'm a freak and a terrorist and an openly gay one. I can hardly be in public at all with a guy without someone assuming we're banging or I'm trying to rope them into the mutant world domination conspiracy or probably both,}" Jax replies wryly. "{Anyone snaps a picture and they'll be} champing at the bit to tear down your --" He flutters a hand towards Steve. "{Wholesome -- /you/. Image.}" His blush deepens, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his head tips to the side, pressing his cheek lightly against Steve's arm. "{-- I like your arm there. /That/ feels comfortable. And I know you may not care about the image. But /I/ don't want to be used for tearing you down like that.}" There's a definite hint of regret in his tone as he scoots just slightly back away, folding his hands in his lap again. His eyes turn back out, towards the dogs. "I pled guilty. I /had/ burned one them women fair bad. The second one a little bit. News tends to leave out the part where they was trying to shoot me an' a child from m'school." "{If they want to tear me down, I'm they'll find a way, no matter what I do or don't.}" But Steve lets his arm drop away, if more /slowly than need be, his fingers pressing briefly between Jax's shoulder blades and tracing down his spine before finally breaking contact. "I don't want you to have to endure more of that, either." He looks down at the bare ground, dusted with snow that now bears the imprint of so many canine paws. Then back over at Jax. "/Shoot/ you? {But were there no witnesses? No cameras? I thought there were cameras /everywhere/ now.}" "M'sure they will," Jax agrees quietly, tipping a glance up towards Steve, his back pressing briefly into the contact before it ends, "but I ain't gonna help 'em do it." His shoulders settle downward, a slightly heavier slump. "{Oh, there were witnesses. Plenty of people from her neighborhood testified how terrible and threatening I was. Made them fear for their lives.}" His jaw tightens slightly. "{Woman put an arrow in me from her front porch, sure she was feeling really menaced.}" He leans forward, shrugging slightly as he rests his elbows on his knees. "{Didn't matter in the end that they'd attacked us -- armed -- shot us, /stabbed/ us. People know what I'm /capable/ of. What I /did/ wasn't on trial.}" Steve braces his hands on the edge of the table as he settles more of his weight onto it. Looks up to watch the dogs at play. He doesn't immediately make any comment when Jax finishes his explanation. Glances sideways at the other man, frowning. Then, finally, resigned, "{No.}" There's a faint creak as the wood begins to warp under his fingers, and he lets go immediately. Crosses his arms over his chest instead. "{No. Just the fear of what you /can/ do.}" He untucks one hand from beneath the other arm and flexes it slowly, forming a fist and then relaxing it. Shakes his head. "{I'm sorry. Were you hurt badly? Your student?}" /This/ question Jax just shrugs off with a quick laugh, a dismissive shake of head. "Weren't /pretty/ but weren't the first time I been stabbed. Or shot. {Not even with arrows, weird enough. Common enough these days. Shouldn't have let it happen to the kid, though.}" His jaw has tightened somewhat here. He tucks his hands back into his pockets, a noticeable shiver, now, in his posture, shoulders hunching inward. His eye lifts, watching the snow slant down through the glow of the streetlamps. Fixing across the park at some distant spot where snow is starting to accumulate on the scaffolding on a gutted apartment building across the street. "{Fear pushes people all kinds of ways. I'm still always trying to learn the best way to fight /that/.}" Steve's mouth pulls to one side -- maybe headed for a lopsided smile, but doesn't quite make it. "I've been shot and stabbed plenty, too. {Doesn't actually make it any /more/ fun, in my experience.}" He starts to reach for Jax again when he notices the shiver. Stops. Tucks his hand back under his arm. "{Usually, best way is to face it, learn about it. But. Hard to fight /other/ people's fears that way. Except just...}" Turns to Jax again, more fully, though he doesn't stand up. "Being visible." "Certainly weren't no party." Jax tips his chin up to the other dog's guardian when they take their mutt from the park, leaving Obie alone in the park. The beagle, damp but happy, bounds back over with his knotted rope to drop it at Steve's feet. Jax's lips have pressed together, twisting slightly to the side at Steve's words -- until the conclusion, which breaks his expression back into a smile, a quick tumble of laughter, mittened hand lifting to his lips. "... oh." There's a faint flitter of pale light around him, his eye dropping away from the construction across the park. "Right. If only --" His head shakes, nose crinkling up. "{Well. /I'm/ about as visible as you can get. It's certainly helped -- but.}" He leaves the but unfinished, sliding down off the table to crunch onto the snow. "I didn't mean that /literally,/" Steve adds, pushing himself off of the table as well when Obie brings back his prize. "{But you are /that/, too. Mostly. Except when you're uh...not.}" His words come out more awkward than his tone or body language. "{Unfortunately, it's dangerous to be visible -- whether like you or like B and Shane.}" He stoops to pick up the rope, which Obie rears up to follow...briefly, before toppling over, feet kicking and scrambling to right himself again. "{If you're cold? We can get moving again.}" Even so, he tosses the rope toy again. Which the beagle fails to actually chase, still staring /raptly/ at Steve. Expectant. The light around Jax glitters brighter at Obie's failure to properly Dog, his laughter still stifled behind his mitten. "Oh, honey. {He tries so hard.}" He holds out his hand, the rope reappearing in it to wiggle in front of the beagle's eyes. He moves his hand slowly back and forth, waiting for the dog to track it before tossing the illusion-rope in an arc to land neatly where the actual one had fallen. This time Obie does take off after the rope, racing over to -- overshoot and just bolt straight past it, frantically sniffing around underneath a tree and then a table and then a different tree in confusion. Jax winces, rubbing his hand against his face as he starts to meander over towards the abandoned toy, sluggish and still a little shivery. "{It's dangerous,}" he agrees mildly. "But there's plenty enough people willing to /fight/ this fight, you know? Kinda need people willing to --" His cheeks flush pink, head shaking as he stoops to pick up Obie's rope. Steve doesn't bother hiding his laughter, and his eyes track aside to the light glimmering around Jax. "{Maybe some other time, he will catch the rope. When it isn't expecting him.}" He doesn't follow Jax, just starts toward the gate at a leisurely pace. "Willing to..." He stops, considers the sky for a moment, the snowflakes drifting down more thickly now than just a short while before. "...sow love where there is hatred?" "Obie. Come, pup." Jax clicks his tongue against his teeth, wiggling the rope in his hand. It takes a moment before the dog trots over to him, rearing up for a moment; he clips the beagle's leash on first before following Steve to the gate. His smile is soft, at this answer, his hand moving to rest briefly over his heart. In lieu of verbal answer there's a dove resting on his mittened palm when his hand comes away from his coat, a faint glow in its white feathers.