ArchivedLogs:Science and Sweetness

Science and Sweetness
Sharing. Lots of Sharing.
Dramatis Personae Nox, Micah
In Absentia	4 March 2013 Nox and Micah compete in the Awkward Olympics.
Location <NYC> Hudson River Greenway
The Hudson River Greenway is the longest greenway in Manhattan, running along the west side. It's known for its bike trails and green space. Amidst these trails, Pier 64 juts into the Hudson River and is a popular site among those who enjoy pretending they're communing with nature without leaving the city. It's an odd combination of the organic and concrete, of water and glass, earth and steel. The phone call was an awkward one--Nox was on a payphone, which created a great deal of background noise. Between that and the woman's need to whisper, hearing her might be an issue. Add in the fact that she's not entirely /comfortable/ with the invitation she's extending to Micah, which leads to long pauses, and it's just not the most smooth experience. But in the end, the gist of her message comes through: would Micah care to join her on Pier 64 for no particular reason beyond simply enjoying the clear weather and some conversation? At the pier, it's as dark as dark can be, dark enough that the pools of light cast by the street lamps seem constrained by shadows. It isn't Nox's fault, though! She's as solid as she ever gets, bundled in the sweat suit--which could use with a wash--and seated on a bench at the very end of the pier. It's chilly but the view is exquisite. There's a marina on the opposite bank, and tall apartment buildings, and a universe of twinkling lights that make it look as if the skies have come down to earth to take up residence. Micah…might have been trying not to sound excessively enthusiastic about the invitation on the phone, but it’s hard to tell with him. His /baseline/ is fairly enthusiastic. He has wandered his way to the location Nox specified, clad once again in the green puffy coat and orange knit hat, a messenger bag slung casually over his shoulder. He had been using a maps application on his phone to help find the location, but feels pretty certain he’s made it to the right place. The phone gets turned off and stuffed into a jeans pocket. Micah searches for person-shapes that could be Nox, a task made somewhat more difficult by her proportions not being consistent. Maybe that person on the bench? His gait shifts to an easy jog to investigate. “Nox?” he offers hopefully, approaching. Confirmation comes with a soft, "Micah." She sounds glad to see him and is rising to turn in his direction as he approaches. Once he's close enough, Nox takes special care to make certain a smile is visible. It's easier for her in the dark to make sure her features are strong enough to carry those deeper expressions. It's also easier to be taller; she's matching him in height this evening! That might be a first. "It isn't too cold for you here, is it?" she asks, looking over the coat, and that distinctive orange hat which never fails to draw a glint of amusement. "I thought...quiet places are rare to find. Up here." Micah’s face lights up with a broad, bright smile. “Hi! No…well, yes, but no. I’m always cold, but this coat is /amazing/ and full of fluff and I’ll be more than fine. You’re taller tonight.” He slides onto the bench next to her, immediately twisting sideways a bit to face her better. “Besides, it’s darker out here. It’s nice to be able to see you smile.” As if he weren’t doing enough of that for both of them. "I am more everything in the dark," Nox says and it's only then that it becomes apparent that she was tense--and it's going now, with Micah's chatter. She sits again and draws her heels up onto the edge of the bench, securing her legs against her chest with looped arms. Her head is turned to allow the face to face conversing, though. "And you are very sweet. Thank you. For coming out. I could not think of anyone else who would be..." She hesitates before opting for gentle teasing: "...crazy enough to want to sit with me in a cold park, watching cold water, in the dark. But you should tell me, if it gets too cold? Please. I would feel so badly if you froze." A light, melodic chuckle answers Nox’s teasing. “Crazy is good. Nothing novel or interesting really gets done without a little crazy. I think it’s thoroughly underrated.” A trace of concern furrows his brow faintly. “I hope you weren’t too upset…the other day, in the library? I was kind of an idiot and Hive was insanely sleep deprived and I’m /extremely/ sorry it got a little weird?” His rambling is a statement, but lilts like a question with its uncertainty. "An idiot?" That's what Nox seizes on it first and it causes her to study him with head titled, surprise writ clean in her expression. "You weren't an idiot, Micah. It was...mmm." She hums and rests her chin on her knees to look out over the water. It's dancing with the light across the river, making it an excellent place to gaze while gathering thoughts and words. In the end, she decides to approach the subject from a different angle. "There is nothing to apologize for. I think if I were a telepath, I would not be nearly as pleasant as your friend was. He was only defending someone he appears to respect and I have...problems. With doctors." “I…well, no, really. Some of that was my fault. I always assume people /I/ know and like should immediately like each other and kind of forget the ‘oh, wait, these people are strangers’ part. Like just spillin’ to you that Hive was a telepath and all. That was me not thinkin’. Set the whole thing up to be awkward.” Micah’s hand moves to rake through his hair in a habitual motion, looks a little confused when it contacts hat, and returns to sit limply at his side. “I get the doctor thing, though. A lot of people don’t get warm-fuzzies from the white coats. I can…vaguely imagine how it might be worse…for you.” "Ah...but one can understand why you would think he might not mind. Me being so visible. In a way. We were in the company of our own, after all. Or would have been, in an ideal world." Nox turns her head so her cheek rests against her knees, just watching the young man as he rumples his hair, or attempts to. Her smile lingers. "Perhaps it might have gone differently had I not been struggling with my own issues, and your friend had not been so obviously exhausted. I hope he was able to rest, afterward. And you...I hope it has not been worrying you. I was not in the least bit upset with you, Micah. I find your company soothing." As for doctors, well...she's just going to let that one go for now. Micah nods along with Nox’s explanations in agreement, any solemnity in the motion shattered completely by the bobbing of the fluffy pompon atop his hat. “He promised me he was going to go be unconscious after he left the library. I choose to believe that meant sleep.” Another joking little grin slides across his lips. “I haven’t been /too/ worried. A little. I have a little corner in the back of my brain that doesn’t quiet well. But it’s okay, the other 90-plus-percent is mostly silly.” Apparently ‘soothing’ is enough of a compliment to coax a faint blush to his cheeks. Perhaps the cold helped it there. “I’m glad… I’ve…been rather enjoying our accidental rendezous.” There is no more ‘faint’ about the blushing. It marches straight up to the tips of his ears. "You do seem to have a very busy mind." This is an amused observation, and an approving one. And as soon as that blush is spotted, Nox returns her chin to her knees to look out over the water--possibly to give him the mental space needed to get it under control, possibly because blushes are contagious. "Someone who is mostly silly probably couldn't do everything you do. And it has been nice. Running across you." A smile tugs at her lips as something occurs to her. "Did you bring a jar for me to open?" "I /know/. I have no idea how a telepath could stand to be anywhere near me. Sometimes I confuse /myself/." Micah's laugh is playful, gently self-deprecating. The reminder about his jar offer continues his amusement. "No, I didn't actually. I figured we were meeting all /on purpose/ for once. I should save my jar woes to summon you at a later date. And I...um..." Micah finally decides to use the somewhat appropriate cue to reach into his bag. "I thought maybe I'd bring this instead." He pulls out an item, about the length of his forearm. It appears to be a flower, its petals made in waves of plastic, a deep violet on the outside and pure white on the inside. The blossom is doubled, one resting neatly within the other. The stem is thick, twisted metal wire in a shiny black. A trained eye would guess the plastic to be leftover pieces from bracemaking--thermoplastic coloured with transfer paper. "It's uh...supposed to be a purple moonflower. /Datura metel/. /Fastuosa/ variant. You...make me think of them. Or the other way around. Especially if you're taking up gardening." Any hope of that blush going away is lost. Nox lacks the properly trained eye but she recognizes pretty when she sees it, along with something that required work to create. It leaves her hesitant to reach out for the flower at first, for the silly fear of breaking it. "Oh," she whispers, and, "Oh," again as the stem is finally balanced on her fingers so she can bring it close for a better study. "Oh, Micah...this is..." It's too dark to see if she's joined him in blushing but from the lightning-quick glance she gives him, a look that skitters quickly away, it seems likely. "This is beautiful. Datura metel. It sounds like poetry." Her hair, which had been resting quietly against her shoulders, begins to snake down her back--another sign that yes, she's probably flustered. "You made this?" she asks, though it hardly needs asking. “I…like to make things. Always have to have my hands busy. I knitted this hat!” Micah points to his head. He…might be spitting out just about every thought that’s crossing his mind right now. “Yeah, they’re fairly poetical creatures. Night-blooming. And they say if you walk by where enough of them are growing, just breathing deeply can have an intoxicating effect. There are cultures that used them to induce visions or vivid dreams. They contain some hallucinogenic chemicals.” Science rambling alert! Somehow it works, Micah saying every little thing that pops into his mind and Nox being so /very/ good at listening. She's active about it, looking at the hat when he indicates it, then at the flower when he describes the organic variety's properties. Her fingertips wander the edges of the petals while he talks and after awhile, around the time he says 'intoxicating', she's smiling again. "I think that is perhaps one of the greatest compliments I've ever received," she says softly. "Though no one has mentioned me giving them visions. Thank you, Micah. This is...I will treasure this." Micah’s blushing, if possible, has worsened. A little irrational fear that he might start /glowing/ or something nibbles at his brain. He ducks his head for a moment. “You’re welcome. I’m glad that you liked it, I wasn’t sure… Well, I’m definitely not cold anymore.” He finally decides that acknowledging his predicament is the best option, scrubbing his fingertips against his cheeks as he looks back up. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. This is unexplored territory--not only being given a gift but in making someone combust from blushing. The sidelong glance that Nox gives him could only be described as shy, in complete defiance of her usual warm calm. But it's true to character that she says, after a moment of thought, "I am very bad with this...this sort of thing. With..." A descriptor fails to surface, so she finishes awkwardly, "This." It's a /little/ easier to reach out towards him and brush her fingers against that same place he's just scrubbed, on his cheek. Her touch is lighter and cooler both--but who knows if that's going to help! "Thank you." Good manners always help, right? “I’m…ah… Yeah, it makes everything a little awkward. My redhead curse. It’s like, ‘Everyone, look, I am experiencing an emotion!’ in neon letters, right across my--” Nox’s touch actually manages to make Micah /stop talking/. She must be magic! His eyes close in a prolonged blink. “I don’t think you’re doing anything badly. Honest.” "It helps, in a way. You are more...honest? More honest than most people. Because of it." Nox lets her hand fall away to recurl her fingers around the stem of the flower. It makes an excellent place to look while she experiences the awkward, herself. "I had wondered if...mm. If perhaps you liked me. That way. I wasn't certain," she says in a whispery rush, as if trying to get it all out, "because it has only ever been something I have seen or read and the signs are different, in the first person. Or maybe you are only being wonderfully nice and friendly and this is how you show it in which case, please forgive me. Please." Micah laughs, nervously. “As if I weren’t guileless enough without the visual aid. I don’t think…I don’t /subtle/ well.” Because ‘subtle’ is a verb. He quiets himself to listen to Nox speak, her turn to string words together in a rapid stream. But she does pose a question. “I…um. Might have been admiring you. Since I got myself in trouble with that crazy fella and you rescued me. Like it was nothin’. Just so calm and downright /polite/ even.” His typical grin manages to sneak back into play. “In spite of me flailing. Even literally, in that case.” "But it was our fault you were in trouble with him," Nox points out, far too realistic to allow a romantic view of the rescue. "We have been looking for him and when we found him, he took you to try to keep us from taking /him/. If it weren't for us you would not have needed rescuing...you would not have been in trouble at all." She toys with the flower, turning the stem slowly around between her fingers. It makes the petals twirl just as slowly, a movement intended to distract from her quick sidelong glance at him. "You might not have flailed had I not been underfoot," she adds with her own small smile. "So that too was my fault." “Doesn’t matter so much what started it. You were willing to help. And you /did/. And you were you doing it.” Micah fidgets with the strap of his bag, not having anything conveniently held in his hands. “In the meantime, it hasn’t been /fair/, that laugh of yours. Never heard anything like it. I just…” He opens his hands outward broadly, a gesture of surrender. "Not...fair?" That gives Nox pause and leads her to study him again, this time for a longer period of time. She isn't quite sure what to make of that comment and it shows. But, as it has been a day of sharing, it leads her to make an attempt to explain: "I was...when I first became me. Became this. It was...it was so strong I was.../not/ me for a long time. I was just the dark. Just shadows. I had to learn. To be a body again. To move and talk. Talking was hardest. If I had to shout to save someone's life, I couldn't. Maybe one day." “I’m trying to say…it’s like, almost /intolerably/ adorable. In a good way.” Micah bites down on his lower lip for a moment with that admission. At least blushing /more/ isn’t really an option. He quiets again, just watching Nox as she tries to describe her experiences, attempting to understand from his outsider’s perspective. “I guess…it’s kind of like all the /power/ showed up at once, without the /control/? When you changed? And no one to know how to help pull you back again. I’ve seen how hard those things are…with whole teams of people helpin’ to figure ‘em out. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It sounds terrifying.” The word 'adorable' sparks realization and her own version of blushing, though it's hard to see courtesy of the gloom here. But Nox's chin is attempting to become one with her throat and her cheeks around round with a deeper smile as she murmurs an, "Oh." So sharing /wasn't/ necessary. D'oh. "I am...I'm glad." That it's adorable? She doesn't say because words are hard, even if talking came easily! "It was what it was. But yes, like that. All of the changes, none of the ability. I was...very sheltered. At the time. Mutants were very far away but even if they hadn't been, I would have...it seemed less like being a mutant and more...like something from a movie. But. I am here now. And you. And I wish I were not so..." Words fail again, leaving her to shake her head. Micah reaches out a hand, resting it on Nox’s gently…almost as if testing its solidity, like he doesn’t know his own strength and might hurt her. “I’m glad…that you found yourself again. And…” And. “Not so…?” he turns her words into a question, coaxing gently. It’s obvious that he wants to be reassuring, but needs to be told what to reassure /about/. He watches her expression closely. Nox's hand is there, fully solid and cool to the touch. She turns it up to gently press his in a gesture that could be reassurance given in turn. More easily read is her smile, when she lifts her head enough to look at him. "Someone told me today it was clear I was raised well. But if I was ever taught what to do when a sweet young man gives you a flower and calls your laugh adorable, I don't remember it," she says quietly. "I have forgotten a lot of things. And I know I say that a lot. But I wish I were not so prone to forgetting." Micah squeezes her hand in return, softly, once he has determined that the contact was welcome. “If someone told /me/, I forgot too,” he jokes. “Though I have to say, I haven’t found myself in /exactly/ that situation before, either. I’m…” He catches his lip in his teeth again, worrying at it. “I’m afraid I’m makin' you terribly uncomfortable.” "No? Ah. I had almost hoped you had, so you could tell me what I should do." This is partly teasing, partly true. Nox's smile remains as it was, with no more of that pesky looking away to get in the way of it. Her hand stays as it was too--that seems a decent first step, far better than a plain thank you. "You do not make me uncomfortable, Micah. I enjoy being around you. You make me laugh. You make me the opposite of uncomfortable. But I am afraid /I/ make you risk...whatever the risk of blushing is. Aneurysm?" Micah /giggles/ at her, clearly relieved. “I don’t think it’s really risky. Just…local vasodilation. It’s supposed to be good, opening up the vessels. Like drinking a glass of red wine, I suppose. One could say you’re good for my health.” There’s that sparkle of laughter in his eyes, replacing the nagging worry that he was being terribly overbearing in all of this. "Ah, then if I am good for your health, I'm glad. It would be the world's loss for you to suffer, you should be just as you are." Nox extricates her hand then, but only so she can lift the flower again for a closer study of the petals. "You will have to tell me how you managed to color this. It's plastic, isn't it? I know if metal is heated a certain way, it can cause color but..." The question is all but designed to get the young man talking, so it serves as a gentle prompt to make him spill /all/ of the scientific words. Because science is sooo much easier to cope with than sweetness.