ArchivedLogs:Finding Shelter

Finding Shelter
Dramatis Personae Ducky, Jackson, Melinda
In Absentia	2013-05-14 '
Location <NYC> Helping Hands Homeless Coalition - Chelsea
(Melinda -->Jackson) Hey Jax! Found a young girl at the shelter that could probably use an education and I don't know how to... (Melinda -->Jackson) She's a mutant so can't go to a regular school. Thought of you. Would love to set up a meeting with you and her. (Melinda -->Jackson) Or another teacher at the school, as I understand completely if you are busy. (Jax --> Mel): Mornings are crazybusy for me but I can swing an afternoon sometime. Or evening. (Jax --> Mel): What are your schedules like. Y'all's schedules. Schedules for you(plural).? (Melinda -->Jackson) Evenings are good for me. Ducky (she's got such a cute name) can be there any time. Tonight? Tomorrow? (Jax --> Mel): Today's good. I'll be home at lunch and then have class in the middle of the afternoon but before two or after five is good. (Jax --> Mel): Should I come to you? Will y'all come to me? I'm flexible. (Melinda -->Jackson) she said she'd be most comfortable with you coming to us. Helping hands, maybe around 6? I'll save you some dinner. We're having veg safe soup. (Jax --> Mel): Cool! See you at six. The lower level of the Helping Hands building is devoted to being a soup kitchen, with a large empty space, painted white and filled with cheap but sturdy tables and chairs that leads back to the countertops that house small burners to keep food warm while serving. Behind the counter space, there are tables for additional food prep, with multiple openings and doors to the kitchen. The real heart of the shelter is the kitchen, where industrial sized stoves and ovens take up huge amounts of space and generate delicious aromas as they work most of the day preparing that night's meal. The homeless shelter itself starts at a small desk in the front, complete with announcement boards, calendars posted, flyers that describe all the services provided at the Coalition, and most importantly, the rules that all must follow that wish to be there. There is a monitored door that requires the receptionist to press a button to open access upstairs. Up those stairs are equally large open rooms filled with single beds. There are a couple rooms for families that house bunk beds that require card keys to access - those keys always left with the receptionist when the occupants leave for the day or week. On the third floor, there are youth hostel rooms for paying customers and those with long term needs and the inability to obtain a lease. On all floors, the bathrooms are shared, with certain perks available to homeless individuals who are willing to clean those out and help out in general around the shelter. Tuesday evening, around six pm, the dinner rush is in full effect. Technically, Melinda isn't actually working tonight, but is instead fulfilling her promise to Ducky. She let her know ahead of time, telling her to wait for her at the front desk. She's wearing jeans and a long sleeved baseball style tee shirt, with a canvas jacket on over the top. Her long hair is braided behind her back. Next to her on the desk is a container of the evenings dinner option. It's a hearty bean soup with kale and tomatoes, still hot in the plastic tupperware. Next to it is some bread with butter packets for Ducky, and bowls and silverware for food consumption, a set of three. She's got her phone out and is waiting for messages that may indicate delay. Ducky has not been this nervously excited in months, since she originally made the trip from Chicago to New York. The mousy girl has done her best to clean herself up a bit, attempting to scour the mud from beneath her nails, and do something with the short mop of tawny brown hair - her clothes are the closest she can get to presentable - a pair of jeans with only minimal mud stains, and a not quite as oversized hoodie from Old Navy. It has taken all her will to not go play with her bird friends today, in an attempt to stay somewhat clean and halfway presentable - as a result, she looks rather fidgety, and her nervousness is showing quite obviously. For once, she hasn't left the shelter today, and instead emerges from one of the sleeping areas, looking around for a moment, before heading for Melinda, offering a little bit of an anxious wave to the other woman. "Um. hi. Again. I, s... so, a teacher is really coming to talk to me? About the school? It's... it's actually happening?" Ducky stammers, looking around as she keeps her voice low - not that it would be heard over the din of the dinner rush. "Um, do... do I look ok? I mean, I don't really have nice interview clothes anymore, but I... I washed my face and hands before..." she shakes her head, letting the theatrical reference drop unfinished. Her eyes occasionally dart towards the front door, where a dappled gray and white pigeon looks in, as he always does when she is here. "S... sorry for babbling so much. Again," she says, grinning slightly. Jax does not text to say he'll be late, arriving at a minute after six. Dressed comfortably still in school-clothes, his faded once-black now-grey capris are splattered with paint, as is his Rainbow Brite t-shirt. His hair is vivid peacocky shades of blue and green and purple, as is the glittery makeup that frosts his lips and his nails. He wears a large pair of mirrored dark glasses, and doesn't take them off even when inside. Entering the door he offers a bright-wide smile to the others. "Mel, hi!" It's chipper-cheerful as he leans in to peck Melinda lightly on the cheek. He offers a hand to Ducky afterwards, its smallest finger missing. "You must be Ducky. I'm Jax. S'good t'meet you." His voice is as brightly warm as the colours he wears, words coated heavily with a thick Southern drawl. "Don't worry, Ducky. The guy that is coming is very nice and he'll like you for you. Clothes are immaterial. That said, you look good." Melinda slips her phone into her pocket after reading and replying Jax's message about how it's fine. She focuses on Ducky, doing her best to be as warm and calming as possible, missing Jackson's initial entrance. She does manage to see him before he kisses her cheek, so she's not started. She gives a soft laugh after the kiss and smiles more easily at Ducky. "This is the teacher. I figured that this would all go better if we have our meeting on the roof, so if you'll follow me, we can get started. Jax, honey, can you grab the plates and bread?" Melinda grabs the soup and the spoons and heads for the door behind the reception desk, pressing a keycard to the scanner in order to get through the door. There are four flights of stairs between them and the roof, but it's easy going after the first two flights, as fewer people are around and cluttering up the staircase. As the man approaches their table, and is introduced as the teacher she would be talking to, Ducky tilts her head curiously, in a decidedly bird-ish manner, and looks him over. A slightly nervous smile passes over her lips as she shakes his offered hand, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jax," she says, adding the formality out of habit, "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me. I really appreciate it." When Melinda mentions having the meeting on the rooftop, Ducky looks almost ecstatic at the thought, and happily helps carry the dinner plates up to the rooftop. As she follows Melinda and Jax towards the door, she glances back over her shoulder to the gray and white pigeon that had been waiting outside, and nods her head up, although she doesn't say anything. The bird in question ruffles, and takes flight almost immediately, although it could always be a coincidence. When they eventually reach the rooftop, Ducky looks thrilled to be outside and around the open air again, or more specifically, around the small gray and white pigeon that is waiting beside the door for her arrival. The hand Ducky shakes is fiercely warm, feverish in its unnatural heat. He doesn't look sick, though, as he scoops up the dishes and bread and follows along behind the others. "Just Jax is alright by me. And I'm glad to help." He looks pretty thrilled once they're outside, too, though he tips his face up towards the sun for a moment. It's only once they're outside and the roof door closed again that he says anything more. "Has Mel told you much about what I do or the school I teach at?" "I basically told her that it's a school for mutants. I haven't really - well, I figure most people's own decision to discuss what they 'do', outside of occupations because that's kind of public knowledge." Melinda turns to Ducky and smiles a little brighter. "Jax is an art teacher. He's wonderful with paints, in case his clothes didn't give away his familiarity with them." She moves to where she's already placed a picnic blanket and kneels down on it, setting down the soup and taking the plates and bowls from her companions and begins the process of serving (pouring) soup into those bowls. Ducky nods slowly at the explanation of the school, and smiles at the mention of art classes, "Really? Cool - I think I was supposed to take art this year, but, well, yeah." Her voice trails off a bit and she shrugs, settling down onto the picnic blanket in a cross legged position, before adding, "I had been looking forward to it, too." The dappled gray pigeon is now sitting on her shoulder, just about as close to behind her head as he can get, patiently waiting. "I've heard people talk about the school, but, well, until Melinda said she could set up a meeting with a teacher, I kinda thought it was cruel joke, or, y'know, a trap or something," she says quietly, looking at the bowls of soup rather than looking up at Jax or Melinda. The pigeon coos at her, and preens her hair, apparently trying to calm her nerves - or just looking for nest materials - either one. "Pigeon likes you," Jax comments with a quiet laugh. "I got a friend who -- preens people like that. When he's comfortable with you." He sits, setting out the dishes and laying down the plate of bread. "Y'like painting? Sketching? My class is -- probably the most /colourful/ the school offers." Dishes set out, he folds his legs into a pretzel, leaning slightly back to prop his palms on the roof behind him. Melinda gets a nod, kind of /appreciative/ in the quick twitch of smile he flicks towards her. "Yeah. Job-wise, I meant. Thanks. And it ain't no joke. School pretty much saved my life, as a kid. Can be hard finding a safe place, you know? D'you live here, right now?" One hand gestures vaguely downwards towards the building below them. Melinda settles more onto the side of her thigh, picking up a bowl when everything is served and blowing gently across the top. She is pretty content to let them talk, as the meeting is definitely about them, not her, but she is curious about the school as well. Ducky accepts the bowl of soup and plate of bread, doing her odd little ritual of tearing the bread in half, and filling it with a few beans and some liquid from the soup before folding it into a packet and setting it just off the edge of the blanket, nodding to the Pigeon and muttering under her breath, "Go ahead. Soups up." She smiles at Jax, and tilts her head to the side slightly, "You, um, don't mind the pigeon eating up here, uh, do you? I mean, I can ask him to move over a bit more, so that he's not right here. But, well, sorry I should have asked first." She looks as though she's nervous that she's screwed up somehow, and tucks into her soup hungrily. "And yeah, I kinda live here, I guess. I had been bouncing around between a few different shelters, but this is the one that was the nicest. And wasn't really freaked out by the birds that, um, kinda tend to follow me around." Pondering for a moment, she looks at Jax, and asks, "Is, um, your friend by chance a large bird man named Horus? I can't really picture a person preening others. Granted - he was sort of nervous around me when I met him the first time, so I can't really picture him doing that, either, I suppose." "Mind? I don't mind. S'got as much right to eat as anyone." Jax watches the pigeon with mild curiosity, a small smile playing on his lips. "Birds? Is that what you -- I mean, are they your thing?" The mention of Horus widens his smile again. "Oh, gosh. You know Horus? He's a real sweetheart. He gets real skittish around strangers, but, yeah, once he knows you -- once he likes you -- he's pretty cuddly. And keeps your hair well groomed." He sits up a little straighter, resting his bowl down in his lap. "How long have you been here? Mmm -- /here/-here," with a gesture to the building, "here in the city, here -- wherever. Y'from New York?" "She apparently ran into Horus and Hive," Mel mentions wryly, her smile tight, amused but just barely. She then looks to Ducky. "Nah, go ahead, he's welcome to eat. I just... didn't bring enough for a flock." Nodding to Jax's question, Ducky looks towards the pigeon, "Yeah. I always had birds growing up - my dad was allergic to cats, and my mom to dogs, so they got me birds. So I always used to talk to them, since that's what you do with pets. But, then when I was about 14 or so, they started talking back. And thus far I've been able to communicate with pretty much every bird I've run into - although some have more to say than others. Like Horus, who apparently counts close enough that I can talk to him without actually having to talk too much, or at least I can understand him, anyway." The question about her origins gets little bit of a nervous look, and she stalls by taking a few bites of soup and bread in the meant time. "I, um, I've been at this shelter for about, um, two weeks, I think. New York for a few months. And, well, prior to that, I was in a shelter in Chicago. It's, um, where I'm from, originally. Chicago. But, there was a nice lady at the shelter who helped me catch a ride to New York when my parents started getting close to finding me again, and," she looks down at her soup, shifting to curl up a bit more, "You're not going to send me home, are you? I... don't want to go back. They'll have me put away." She glances at Melinda, and shakes her head at the flock comment, "Nope, just him tonight. The others are out looking, in theory. I hope. I asked, anyway." "Put you away?" Jax's brows furrow at this. "I ain't sending you nowhere, I just am here so -- so you know you got /options/." He picks up his spoon, blowing on the surface of his soup before taking a mouthful. "I bet Horus was pleased, he's always pretty thrilled to find folks he can communicate with. -- were you in school before? You been out long?" He chuffs a quiet laugh at the mention of Hive. "Yeeeah, Horus hangs out with him a lot. They're -- both -- good folks." He takes another bite of soup, and taps the spoon absently against the bowl. "S'school a thing you're interested in? It can help a lot, getting you back on your feet, finding a stable living situation after you're graduated." His head tilts slightly to one side, something almost birdlike in this motion, too. "Lookin' for what?" Ducky looks down at her soup, pushing around the beans before taking another bite and talking, "Um, my parents tried to have me institutionalized because I was talking to birds, and not really talking to the other kids my age. I was doing fine in school, and on track to graduate and everything, but they, um, were more willing to accept that I had suffered a mental breakdown and needed psychiatric help than they were to accept that I was a mutant." She runs a hand through her short hair, fluffing the pixie style up a bit, "I liked school. I want to go into zoology, or avian biology, or conservation, or something, where my mutation can actually be useful and helpful, instead of a curse or crazy." A smile crosses her face at mention of Horus, "I should talk to him again, they told me where they lived, but, well, I haven't exactly been wanting to go out much." The question about looking gets a bit of a sheepish look, and she shrugs, "Um, well, several people have mentioned that there are people missing. And one of them, um, Peter, I think, kinda saved me from some crazy knife guys on a rooftop. So, um, I was trying to ask the birds if they had seen anything, or to keep an eye out for weird stuff. I can't command them, or force them to, but bribing them kinda goes a long way. I ran off when he got me to another roof, but I never got to say thank you, and," she shakes her head, having babbled for quite a bit. "I was trying to help, I guess." Everything else Ducky says to Jackson is, for the moment, summarily ignored. He looks up sharply at the mention of missing people, and for a moment around him there's a brightening, a brief flicker of light that shimmers hot and white and then vanishes. His mouth opens, then closes again, his fingers tightening around the spoon. "Have -- do they -- have they seen -- is there anything? That -- that you've heard?" There's not casual-easy-calm in his tone anymore, so much as a tense-shaky nervous-edged intensity. Melinda reaches a hand up to rest on Jackson's shoulder, giving him a little squeeze after the hot light has vanished. She purses her lips, her expression concerned but cautious. "It is really okay if they've found nothing, Ducky. Don't be afraid to say that. We would really just like to know if there is something." Ducky flinches away from Jackson as eh flashes brightly for a moment, and then the sudden change of his tone has her looking decidedly nervous, her eyes flicking around the roof, looking for the nearest exit, be it fire escape or the stairwell. Even as Melinda assures her that it is ok if she hasn't found anything. "I... I..." she stutters for a moment, setting her bowl aside and pulling her knees up to her chest to make herself smaller, "I'm sorry. I haven't heard anything yet. They're sort of out of practice as homing pigeons, and it can sometimes take them a bit to, um, get back to where they left from. I know it's kinda a long shot. I can ask the, um, raptors, and stuff, if I can get close to them, but," she trails off, looking like she's screwed up royally, "I'm sorry. I'm gonna keep trying. I'll find more birds to send out, and keep looking." "I'm sorry," Jackson says reflexively, tipping his head down to fix his mirrored gaze on the soup. "It's not -- you don't gotta -- I'm sorry. Don't -- it's not your -- I'm glad you're looking," he says, quieter now, and, if not /calm/ at least soft. Still a little shaky. "I didn't mean to -- it's just my kids are --" His head leans to the side, cheek pressing against the back of Melinda's knuckles. He takes a deep breath. He takes a sip of his soup. "If you want," he manages to continue, quieter, "I can bring you out to visit the school. Meet some of the other teachers, talk to the headmaster. It's a good place. They took me out of a bad situation when I was a teenager and kinda turned my life around a lot." His lips curl upwards a little bit. "And the grounds are gorgeous. 'tween the lake and the forest there's a lot of birds." "Oh," Ducky says in quiet shock, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know," she continues, looking at Jax as though in a new light, "I'm sorry, I didn't know that your children were missing. I'm sorry." Her shoulder droop a bit, "I don't mind sending out other birds. If I leave the shelter tomorrow, I'll start kinda asking where I can. Get a wider search going and stuff." She runs her hand through her hair again, looking down at the mostly eaten soup, "Um, are your kids the, um, blue fish boys Melinda mentioned before?" Ducky looks nervously at Jax. After a few moments, the young girl unfolds from her compacted defensive position, and nods slowly, "I, um, I would like to see the school. If it would be, possible, and it's not too much of an imposition. I don't really have that many other options, all things considered. The school still almost sounds too good to be true, but, I'd like to try," Ducky says, her voice sort of wavering a little, still nervous that she's done something wrong. "Yeah." Jackson runs his fingers through his hair, too, tousling its bright peacocky shagginess. "They're blue. Sort of sharky. Really small and --" His palm rubs against his cheek. "You free tomorrow?" he asks, his smile flashing again -- bright, once more, though somewhat less quick and easy than it had been. "It does kinda sound too good to be true, but it ain't. I mean, it's high school, it's got problems like any high school. But it's -- it's safe, and they'll give you a home and a good education and a place to be yourself without worrying about what people are gonna do to you for it. If you got time, I could swing by in the morning, pick you up and take you out there. I gotta leave kinda early to get to class on time but. If that's aright I could let 'em know they'll have a visitor tomorrow." Ducky reaches back to the pigeon who has long since finished his meal, picking up the small bird and idly petting it. She bows her head, mentally making note of the description of the two boys, nodding. The question about being free tomorrow brings a raised eyebrow, "I'm kinda a homeless teenager. I'm pretty sure I'm free," Ducky says a bit wryly, petting the pigeon, "I would really appreciate it, though. Um, so, after I visit, what happens? Do I sign up? Do I have to go through an entrance exam or anything? I, um, I can't pay. Pretty much the only thing of value is a golden sponge I found, and I don't even know what to do with that one." She frowns, poking at said lump in her backpack, "And, do I... do I need to contact my parents? Or anything like that?" "A -- golden sponge," Jackson echoes with a little bit of confusion. "Mmm -- they have real generous scholarships, my folks would never have been able to pay my tuition otherwise. I'd never be able to pay all my /kids'/ tuition otherwise. There's not an exam, though you do gotta meet with the headmaster and talk." His brow furrows, a little deeper. "I ain't a hundred percent sure what they'll say about your folks," he admits, "but you sure wouldn't be the first student whose in some kinda precarious position with your biological family. I don't think they're gonna force you into anything that'll get you in trouble. You can meet with them and see if it's a good fit for you and if it is -- they don't just got high school. There's a safe place to stay, three meals a day, folks who can work with you to make sure when you're ready to leave there you're prepared to live in the world safely. That can -- well, with some people's abilities, it gets hard." As though to prove that she was not, in fact, insane, Ducky rummages in backpack for a moment, before pulling out a standard cleaning sponge that looked like someone had been squishing it in their hand, made of shining gold. She holds the odd object out to Jackson, "See. A golden sponge. Hell if I know," Ducky says with a shrug, looking down at the gleaming chunk of what-the-hell. At the explanation of what happens after the visit, Ducky nods, looking nervous, "Thank you. For everything. I just hope I don't screw it all up." She runs her hand through her hair again, "And I'll check with the birds tonight. See what they've seen or heard." Jackson reaches to take the sponge, and perhaps he was doubting that it was genuine because he looks quite surprised at the startlingly heavy weight to the object. "... woah. A -- /sponge/ why a sponge." This is baffling. But he returns the sponge to Ducky, nodding as he finishes off his soup. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that a lot. And I'll swing by -- probably six thirty or so." He offers Ducky a small smile. "I think you'll be fine. We'll take it one step at a time."