ArchivedLogs:Speculation

Speculation
24 November 2013
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Micah, Jackson, Flicker
In Absentia	2013-11-24 A lot of what-ifs, and finding comfort where it exists. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. A widescreen television stands against the wall opposite the couch, shelving beside it holding a host of video games from different consoles. More shelving beside the windows on the far wall carries stacks of board games, as well as sourcebooks from various RPGs. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here and one bathroom situated between them, split between the three people who live here. It's been a long cold day. With the quarantine lifted things can begin the long process of returning to normal in the city, but with Westchester still plagued the extermination efforts now are focused there so that their quarantine can soon be lifted as well. Dusk's been out among them, certainly not /military/ but Jax's team has their own firepower. He's barely been home any time at all; there's still a distinct /chill/ clinging to his wings, and he's shivering still as he peels out of his layers. Flicker is in his bedroom doing the same, trading outdoor gear for cozy pajamas, sweatshirt, fuzzy socks. "Could put up some -- uh. Tea? I think the clinic has cocoa but I don't know if we --" Flicker's voice is briefly muffled as he pulls a sweatshirt on, a few bandages briefly visible. Dusk only has one, neatly wrapped around an arm, though there's more than a couple small tears nocked into his wings. "Oh, god. I would give fucking /anyone/ a blowjob right now for some cocoa. There will never be enough cocoa in my life. Had a cup this morning, I think it carried me /right/ through that hell." Micah has been doing the supply runs today while Jax and Company ran off to play zombie hunters. He's been busy much of the day, with these trips starting much later than usual after a hunting trip with the boys early this morning followed by the arduous process of getting the meat into decent enough shape to be allowed in the kitchens. Teleporting ferret time-shares were a little harder to work out than usual. Fortunately, converging from Xavier's to the Lofts meets multiple requirements! As such, Micah makes his way over to Geekhaus with his now only half-laden grocery handcart of supplies. He knocks twice before opening the door and walking right in. His olive green jacket is worn open now that he is indoors, gloves sticking out of one pocket and the pompom of his Jayne hat visible from the other. He has a powder-blue Totoro-face T-shirt on beneath, over a pair of patchy jeans and his hiking boots. “Hi, folks! Supply train is here!” Jackson is flopped out on the couch. Injuryless, apparently, but certainly /exhausted/, pale and with a constant unsettled shimmer of light around him. "Ohgosh please tell me there's like. Ibuprofen somewhere in supply train." He pushes himself shakily upright, squinting over towards Micah. He hasn't bothered to change out of the clothes he's been wearing all day, save for removing his mittens and outer coat to drape it over the back of the couch. A little /puffy/ in many layers to combat the below-freezing temperatures, black-and-red striped knit cap still pulled down on his head, fingerless similarly striped gloves still on his hands, boots and dark cargo pants and black-and-red sweatshirt with silver butterflies on its sleeves. He peers towards the grocery cart curiously. "-- Should I be cooking?" "You should be /resting/," Flicker insists, poking his head out of his bedroom. "Hi, Micah. Um, do you have cocoa, because Dusk --" Though here he just suddenly blushes, deeply. Dusk /smirks/, reappearing with his layers shed, now just in flannel pajama pants and a warm fleecey blanket draped over his wings. "-- would trade sexual favours for cocoa though, honestly, I don't really need any incentive with Micah. How'd hunting go?" "There isn't, but only because nobody said they were out. If they don't have any here, I can go get some from our place quick-like." Micah rests the cart near the counter in the kitchen, unloading the last several bags from it onto the countertop. "And, no, y'shouldn't be cookin'. Y'should be loungin' there, drinkin' whatever hot beverage it is y'want me t'make for you once the unpackin' is done. Takin' your anti-inflammatories once I have 'em. An' prob'ly gettin' a massage once we get home 'cause y'look beat." Micah's cheeks start to colour a delicate pink just in answer to Flicker's blush, the colour spreading and deepening with Dusk's contributions. "We got cocoa powder this trip. S'gonna need other ingredients t'turn into actual cocoa, if that's what people are wantin' for the hot beverage choice here in a minute. If y'all haven't got sugar I can get that from our place, too. There's some almond milk in one of these bags." He collapses the cart and stores it near the door once it is emptied. "Huntin' was good. Shane an' 'Bastian both came along this time. They're /handy/ on a hunt, let me tell ya. Took down another decent-sized deer. Should keep the protein up in the school meals for a few days again." "But I can --" Jackson starts to protest reflexively, beginning to get to his feet. He sits down after, though, a blush dusting his cheeks as well as he sinks back to lie down. "... can lie down an', uh, lounge, sir, an' /ohgosh/ cocoa sounds pretty much incredible. Or a massage. An' a massage. It was a long -- there were /many/ zombies. But I think my team is kinda like a whole regiment all to their own." There's a definite note of pride in his voice at this. "-- Oh, /good/," is also his answer to the hunting. "You been kinda an angel with keepin' everything -- that food's sore needed. Was it okay I mean was -- did y'run into zombie-troubles out huntin'? Was Shane aright?" "There's sugar." Dusk moves closer to Micah with this statement, hooking two fingers into the waistband of the other man's jeans. His head tips forward, lips brushing (still kind of /chilled/) against Micah's neck. "You wanna collect your payment now or --" "-- ohmygosh," Flicker is scrubbing palm against his face, blipping over to examine the kitchen contributions and then start putting them away, "Can you wait till /after/ the cocoa, I had my hopes all /up/." "After." Dusk's agreement comes with a /long-suffering/ sigh. His wing flicks towards Jax. "But can you move his massage to here? I've got good hands, I could help." Flicker just bows his head, brilliantly red. "You might not need to keep it up too much longer. Another day or so like this and I think Westchester might be open again, too." “Yes, y'can sit right there. If we need food made, I can do that a bit closer t'dinner time. My day ain't been near as hard as y'all's has been. Least I can do is run out on some shoppin' trips. You're a proper zombie horde fightin' army, without all the irritatin' army-part.” Chuckling, Micah returns to the kitchen to help with the unpacking, as well, leaving out the container of cocoa and the carton of almond milk once they are located. “Ran into a couple zombies again. Hard not to once y'take down the game an' have t'field dress. Gun's loud an' then there's blood-smell right after. Draws 'em in. Weren't a problem at all with both Shane an' 'Bastian there t'keep 'em off. I just kept right on workin' while they...took care of 'em. Think Shane was more tired after than he'd admit, but he did okay.” Micah's blush returns, finding a more impressive shade of red with Dusk's continued antics. “I meant sugar for the /cocoa/, 'less you're volunteerin' t'go sit in the saucepan, too,” he protests teasingly, though his head tilts to grant easier access to his neck. “Cocoa's definitely happenin', Flicker. An'...could do massages here if y'don't mind. Just thought it would be rude to volunteer other people's beds or couches for that purpose.” Flicker's observation gets a nod in reply. “Yeah, I think things'll be passable again soon enough. For now, though, y'still gotta go pretty far outside city limits t'get any kind of reliable supplies. Especially specialty items like not-milks an' vegetarian items.” "We could be an army. I could design us all uniforms." Jax's expression lights up at this; for a moment a shimmer of silver-and-blue clothing starts to materialize around Dusk but this fades almost immediately. Jax winces, pressing a palm to his temple. "-- Wait, Dusk, are you just /stealing/ me for -- I mean you can't just --" He rests his cheek against the arm of the chair, watching the others in the kitchen. Whatever protest he was going to make just dies away. "Good. I'm glad they -- I'm glad you're /all/ okay. I don't think it ever gets /un/scary." His eye closes, as he nestles back down against the couch. "An' can we not cook Dusk a deer seems like plenty enough meat." Dusk presses his mouth to Micah's neck, sucking the skin briefly with a light scrape of teeth. "-- Like you're not both welcome in my bed any time. And I'm not stealing, I'm just /borrowing/. You're like a space heater, I'm /still/ freezing." He does, at least, unhand Micah so that actual /productivity/ can happen, slipping back out of the kitchen to go perch on an arm of the couch instead. "Though I didn't think you ever complained about too much meat in you." Flicker slumps against the counter, burying his face in his hands. "-- I /know/ things are getting back to normal," he complains to Micah, "my house is getting terrible again. Can I apologize on my roommate's behalf?" He straightens to get out mugs out of the cabinet, and a pot to put on the stove. "I saw a couple stores open around here already again. New York is hard to keep down." “Y'could do the outfits part without the army part. That'd be more fun, I think.” Micah giggles at Jax's accusation. “Not sure it's stealin'. Sounds like more of trade. Warm hands for massage...ain't like y'haven't made /that/ bargain before.” He wiggles his fingers illustratively. “No, zombies'll always be scary. Those boys can just...really handle themselves. Know I felt safer out there with 'em. D'you actually have sugar here, Flicker, so we don't have t'cook Dusk?” Micah might have been about to go help Flicker with the cocoa preparations, but...biting. He melts up against Dusk, eyes falling closed until the other man moves. “Oh. I think y'can apologise as much as y'want, if it makes y'feel better, but ain't like it's makin' Dusk contrite in the process,” he opines with a grin. "Y'think my folks'd let me play dress-up with 'em? I bet I could make -- well, okay, some'a them look incredible no matter /what/ they're in." Jax /might/ be looking at Flicker with this. His blush stays fiercely in place, though he's smiling when he answers, "-- I /guess/ if you /both/ want t'put your hands all over me I ain't gonna say no." He does sit up, now -- though mostly he's just /watching/ this biting with increased interest, shedding his boots and tucking his legs up against his chest. "No, that don't -- look like no regret." "We have sugar." Flicker moves to get some out of the cabinet, pouring some milk into the pot afterwards and turning the heat on. "I don't think Dusk would taste good, chocolate-flavoured. And, um, you guys are welcome to --" He's still blushing as he gets out a spoon and waves it towards Dusk's bedroom door. "I mean, I'm going to go down by the clinic and see how Hive's -- you won't be bothering me. Not like that /usually/ stops Dusk." Dusk grins at his roommate. "What is the point of living through an apocalypse if you don't get to have any fun?" Flicker just shrugs, looking back down at the pot of milk. "Do you think we did, though? I mean. Do you think it's really -- going to be over." “I think /some/ of 'em would an' some of 'em would prob'ly grump at you so hard it'd be entertainin' t'watch anyhow.” Jax's blush ensures that Micah stays red-faced awhile longer. “I mean, four hands /are/ more efficient than two for massages. Oh, hey, Flicker...it looks like you've got this cocoa thing well in hand. I'm gonna go raid the medicine cabinet for NSAIDs.” He ducks into the bathroom for a few ticks, returning with a cupped hand. Fetching another glass from the cabinet, he fills it with water and delivers this all to Jax in the living room. “I mean, there's gonna be a lotta clean-up t'deal with. An' takin' care of the remainin' zombies. But...this thing never really got the chance t'spread too awful. Havin' the drug that slowed it down an' now the cure bein' distributed? S'only a matter of time.” "Hive'd grump at me no matter what. You shoulda seen the fit he pitched over even makin' him train with the others." Jackson's smile is fond, if a little sad, now. He reaches gratefully for the pills and the glass of water, downing them with a look of relief. His hand takes Micah's again afterwards, for no real reason except the feel of twining his fingers through the other man's. "I don't know," he admits, with a small frown. "For sure there's gonna be so much clean-up but. The way this thing spreads? And there were kids that got it an' died from it in like. A day or two. An' there ain't no /test/ for havin' it yet 'cept a lot of brain-scannin' or havin' a telepath poke at you so. I'm gonna guess there'll be people who don't even /know/ they got it till they're dead. How do you really /eradicate/ a disease that spreads by talkin'? They say there's pockets of it all over the world now. I think the apocalypse part is over. Kinda scared the disease might be here to stay a while, though.'" "Hive'd grump at you /and/ totally let you play dress-up with him. Jim got him in a wedding dress before." Flicker's smile is small, a little wistful here. He stirs at the milk on the stove though it doesn't need any stirring, just slowly heating. "It was always only a matter of time with those two," Dusk answers this cheerfully. His wing curls outwards when Micah nears the couch, curling against Micah's back. "I don't know. With this cure if they catch it quick it's not like it'll -- but then." His brow furrows. "How many people is one person likely to infect before they even realize --" "If they ever realize. I mean, is everyone just going to rush out to go get an IV stuck in them every time they get a cold? I hear it's kind of expensive outside of New York anyway." Flicker frowns at this, too. "And it's still more /likely/ to be nothing." Micah wraps his hand around Jax's, giving it a little squeeze. “We're gonna find some kinda help for 'im, too, hon. Come up with somethin'.” He shakes his head at the disease speculation. “The helpful thing'll be for anyone in regions where there's other languages commonly spoken t'avoid English. An' for /everybody/ t'just leave off the words that we know are a problem. Isolate this thing as much as possible. An'...I wonder if they mightn't be able t'come up with some kinda inoculation for the thing? Prevent people from gettin' it at all. Vaccination programs can be pretty effective once enough people follow through t'get some herd immunity.” Micah leans into Dusk's wing for a moment before finding a spot between the other two on the couch to squeeze himself into. "Maybe now that Luci's on the mend --" Jackson closes his eye, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Micah's hand. "Yeah, I think in places where English /ain't/ the dominant language s'at least had less luck spreadin', so that's good. But 'round here -- s'gonna take a long while 'fore I don't look at every sniffle an' wonder if I'm gonna be wakin' up the next morning eating flesh." He shudders, at this thought. "Think they might could make a vaccine? Probably have to even -- isolate what /caused/ it first. They been goin' 'bout this all backwards from usual, ain't they? Ain't really had time to /science/ at it proper." 'You all just need to sign more.' Dusk appropriately signs this instead of saying it aloud. His wing (still cooler than normal but at least not /icy/ any longer) follows Micah downwards to sitting, curling more snugly around the other man's shoulders. "-- I wonder if there'll be a push for -- not using English so predominantly in /everything/. Since this is kind of all around the world no--woooah." Flicker moves hastily to lower the temperature on the stove when the milk starts to bubble up, spilling a little bit down over the edge of the pan before he stirs it back into submission. He spoons in sugar and cocoa, rummaging through the cabinets afterwards to drop in a cinnamon stick as well and whisking it all together. 'It's pretty amazing what they've already done. I think half the city would be dead without Dr. Toure and all them. Maybe more.' Dusk signs slow, but doesn't bother switching back to vocalizing, now. Everyone can get more PRACTICE in. “Don't think we should be askin' anythin' of Lucien's abilities for a /minute/. He was havin' some hard times 'fore any of this started an'...he's still comin' out of this real slow-like.” Micah frowns briefly at this. “For those of us who don't get sick easy, I think it'd be useful t'get checked out when sniffles do make it through. I mean...that was the first real warnin' sign. Folks like the twins actually gettin' sick at all t'begin with. I'm...hopin' they can do somethin' preventative. Now that the cure's out, research into the underlyin' mechanisms would be the next logical step. Tyrin' t'come up with somethin' t'stop it from spreadin' after that.” Micah snuggles up against Dusk's wing, watching his hands closely when he starts signing. He manages to pick up the more common words he's come across. 'Sign', 'more', 'doctor'. The longer statements just leave him shaking his head, expression sheepish. “Don't think they're likely t'move away from the language, no. Folks are awful set in it an' some of us are just horrendous about languages.” "No -- no, you're right, Luci's -- you're right." Jackson nestles in against Micah's side, tucking his head against the other man's shoulder. With his eye half-closing, he misses the signing at first, looking up only when he takes note of it. "-- Mebbe one day I'll be a tenth so good at it as you." He burrows back in at Micah's side, fiercely warm in contrast to the cool of Dusk's wing, his eye closing again. "Yeah but -- all the ordinary folks with ordinary immune systems, they might not never think nothin's outta the ordinary till s'too late." Dusk shrugs a wing, his smile returning. "I'm good with my hands." In the kitchen, Flicker groans. He whisks at the pot a moment more, turning the heat all the way down to low. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I don't imagine Dr. Toure wanted to spend the rest of his life battling zombie virus." Dusk's smile fades, his eyes dropping down to his hands. His wing squeezes tighter against Micah. "I don't. Imagine anyone really wanted --" His fingers lace together, then unlace. "Have they even --" His voice is lower, now, soft and somewhat shaky. "Even started. Giving estimates. On -- on what they think the -- death toll. Has been like." Micah nestles in between the other two, curling himself into the strange juxtaposition of Dusk's chill and Jax's heat against his own middling-temperature. "It'll be a stress on the medical system for awhile, an' some time 'til everythin's completely under control, but at least the end-times feel of it'll...I don't think it's likely t'get bad like that again." He returns Dusk's smile, the colour in his cheeks refreshing at the implication. "I think maybe you've been cooped up here a little too long, Dusk..." He just lifts one eyebrow at the other man before returning to the main thrust of conversation. "I don't think it'll take that long, though. The whole /need/ on gettin' a vaccine or whatever is fairly immediate. I can't imagine them workin' on it for more'n a few months. It's...no. I don't think anybody outside of the media speculation machine has even tried. Too many folks missin' with no way of knowin' if they've just holed up somewhere, or if they're dead or zombies or what. Don't even have bodies in a lot of cases because, well." He shakes his head, not bothering to elaborate. Everyone has seen enough of this to know for themselves. "I don't know," Jackson admits. "I've seen some numbers tossed around online but nothin' past speculation. Be a while I think 'fore they can say anything solid. Government folks've been tryin' to collect bodies to take dental impressions so they can try an' find folks but -- I think there's plenty more as have just been --" He shakes his head, too, still cuddled close to Micah's side. "An' then plus Westchester an' -- anywhere else they been poppin' up, I don't. Know." There is tension creeping into his posture, his fingers tightening in Micah's. Flicker turns off the stove, pouring the cocoa into four mugs. He carefully puts two in each hand, walking rather than blipping over to the living room to set them down on the table. He picks up the last of them, though, crouching in front of Dusk to offer it to him. "Dusk, there's not really any point speculating about --" "-- about how many people died because I couldn't fucking listen?" Dusk stares down at the cocoa, his wings quivering. "God, Jax, you were right. You were -- fucking. Right and I. How many thousands of – fuck." Micah wraps himself closer to Jax, a hand reaching back to rub at the other man's neck, sensing that increase in tension. "Honey, you're doin' everythin' y'can. There's no point to--" He nods at Flicker's message to Dusk, his own sentiment being much the same. "/Dusk/. You didn't do this. You weren't in charge of whatever random genetics or fate or whatever made Vector's powers what they are. You didn't pump 'im full of all kinds of pathogens. You weren't tryin' t'use 'im as a biological weapon. You didn't try t'kill 'im an' shoot at 'im an' scare 'im half t'death t'set his power /off/. None of you are responsible for this. What d'you think would've come of Prometheus gettin' t'keep 'im? A safe, unremarkable life behind walls for Vector? He said they were /already/ tryin' t'use 'im as a weapon. People were gonna die. Might've been /worse/ than this by the time they finished messin' at 'im, startin' things on purpose. Ain't no fault of /any/ of yours. All of you workin' so hard t'make things better." He keeps the one hand rubbing at Jax's neck, but frees his other hand to do much the same for Dusk's back. "Y'all aren't responsible for all the bad in the world. An' certainly bring about a lot of good." Jackson, on the other hand, has no reassurance to offer. He just tenses further, eye squeezing shut. "Keeps me awake every night," he says softly, "I ain't barely slept since all this started. Ain't even slightly productive gettin' all tangled up in the what-ifs but it's so hard not to think what -- damage we --" He swallows, head tipping forward at the rubbing of his neck. He opens his eye to look at the table, briefly. "Thanks, Flicker." He reaches to pick up one of the cups, just putting it in his lap and not drinking it. His teeth wiggle at a lip ring, eye flicking sideways up towards Micah and Dusk. "I think I might could use that -- massage now, honey-honey," he murmurs, though his tone now sounds more concerned than actually needy /himself/. "I don't know what would've happened. But it'd have to be better than this, Micah. Do you know how many of our -- friends and neighbors I've had to --" Dusk shudders, his wing quivering against Micah's back. He takes the cocoa, wrapping his fingers around the warm mug and lowering his head to just breathe in its steam. "Thank you," he whispers. "I almost feel jealous of the people that Hive was -- God, they're probably half fucking lobotomized by now. But if it meant I didn't have to remember --" Flicker rests his hand on Dusk's knee once the cocoa has switched hands. He frowns at the mention of Hive, his chin dropping to rest against Dusk's leg. "There's ways. To forget. If you need to." Dusk exhales heavily at this. It's Jax and Micah his eyes return to, though, lingering over them a long while. "Yeah," he agrees softly. "Some better than others. C'mon. Let's --" His free wing flicks towards the bedroom. "-- could. Use the warmth." “Can't help but think it would'nt've been anythin' but worse, those people... They got no sense of proportion. Always gotta...take things t'extremes. Prob'ly would've killed a /lot/ more people. Might've been less /personal/ t'us. But would've been...prob'ly would've been worse.” Micah's hand is already kneading at Jax's neck and shoulders before he asks. The other petting along Dusk's back. “Of course. Of course, honey.” He releases the others long enough to stand and offer a hand back to each of them, to help them stand and guide them back to the bedroom. Jackson leans forward to kiss the top of Flicker's head. "You be safe out there, honey-honey. Give Hive a hug from me." He takes Micah's hand long enough to stand, reaching down afterwards to pick up Micah's cup from the table, too, and then heading for the bedroom. "As it so happens, I got warmth t'spare."