ArchivedLogs:Diversion

Diversion
Dramatis Personae Eric, Micah, Jackson
In Absentia	21 July 2013 Eric comes looking for clubbing partners.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Eveningtime comes around, spreading over the city which never sleeps. A cool wind finally blows through the streets, turning air conditioners down and letting people crawl back in from sleeping on the fire escapes. Even on a Sunday, the clubs are busy and packed, and the streets bustle and hustle with people going out for a night out on the streets. The area around the Village Lofts is even more busy with the abundance of different nightlife, and couples merrily stroll along the street - some new, some old. Eric, for his part, looks like he is either going to or from one of those clubs, dressed in a black mesh shirt and a pair of dark green jeans. He even has some black eyeliner on his eyes to match the dark studs in his leather belt. He tries Teenhaus first, knocking on the door, waiting, then meandering over to knock once more on the door to Jax's apartment, a quick rap of knuckles against the wood of the door. "Heya!" he calls into the door. "Anybody home? It only takes a few seconds for Micah to skid to the door from his station at the table, where he has been dutifully /laptopping/ a thing.  A thing that maaaaaybe is probably pretty boring, judging by how quickly he gets to the door and flings it open.  “Hiiiii,” he pauses to determine a name to add to the greeting, “Eric!  What’s up?”  He tugs the hem of his black Reading Rainbow-dash T-shirt down further over his faded, rainbow-patched jeans, before gesturing the other man inside.  “Can I get you a drink?  We got juice an’ tea in the fridge for cold.” Jackson /has/ been dutifully laptopping alongside Micah, tucked up into the windowseat by the kitchen table with /his/ laptop on the table beside him, his tablet in his lap. Just working, quiet, his attention focused on the screen and stylus intermittently twirling between the fingers of his left hand when he pauses for thought. He's in jeans, too, capri-cut with purple and green peacock-feathers embroidered up the legs, and a green t-shirt with a print in one corner of a girl hugging a cow. Glittery purple nails, green eyeshadow. He doesn't get up to answer the door, flicking his glance up when Micah does so. "Hey," he chimes in from his perch by the window, but soon returns his attention to his drawing. "Heya heya, Micah." Eric says, his eyes glinting mischeviously. "Yeah, I'd love somethin' to drink." A pause, and he glances towards the fridge hopefully. "Sweet tea?" he asks, stepping in past the doorframe and glancing around the room. "I was wonderin' if Shane is around. Ain't answerin' my texts - wondered if he might'a been here." A pause and he turns to flick his eyes over Micah's backside, then turning to look up and down Jax. "Heya, Jax. How ya doin'?" His eyes glance back and forth between the two men, a warm smile on his face. Micah tucks the door closed softly behind Eric as he steps in. "Yessir, sweet tea," he confirms with a grin as he heads for the kitchen to fetch glasses. "You want a cup, too, hon?" he calls back to Jax. "No Shane, unfortunately. They're usually pretty good about answerin' texts when they have signal, though. You'll prob'ly hear back from him soon enough." Two glasses find their way to the counter, but Micah holds on pulling down a third. "Sweet tea, my gosh, thank'ya, Micah." Eric says, putting a hand up on his forehead in an exaggerated movement. "Aww, shucks. I was really lookin' forward to seein' him." He pauses, glancing between the other two men. "I don't suppose either'a'ya would be interested in comin' dancin' with me? I've got an in at one of the new gay clubs in town. Should be'a blast." He steps over to lean against the counter from the living room, watching Micah move to the refrigerator. It is a nice view. "S'visitin' a friend. Probably be back in time to --" Jackson flicks a glance up from his screen, looking over Eric's clothes with a small curl of lips. "-- catch up with y'at the clubs, mebbe. If you pick one he can /go/ to." Which earns a small frown of thought. "-- he ain't. Really done much clubbing since Evolve. S'this new club friendly? -- Oh /gosh/ I would love some, honey-honey, thank you. Eric, do you ever stop -- ogling for like. Two. Seconds?" The butt end of his stylus is tapping against his lips. “Think nothin’ of it.  Hot as it’s been, gotta keep folks set with cold drinks.”  With confirmation from Jax, Micah grabs a third cup, fetches the pitcher from the refrigerator, and fills all three before distributing them out.  He waves for Eric to follow him to where there are /chairs/.  Because sitting is nice.  “You’re welcome t’hang around an’ see if he gets back, if it’s a place he can go to?” he echoes Jax’s sentiments.  The ogling comment sets a blush to spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah, he should be able ta'go. It's not the friendliest place in the world - not like Evolve - but they won't throw'm out if he's with me." Eric says, shrugging his shoulders once. "Not since I'm goin' with the owner's recommendation." The police officer turns around to grin, widely, at Jax. "Sure do. Course I do, Jax. Just not when there's such hot guys like the two o'ya around," he says, flashing a line of white teeth briefly at Jax then turning to wink at Micah. "I gotta get my eyes full of some awful pretty." Micah slides into a chair, sipping from his glass because he /really/ needs some sweet tea. Not because he is hiding worsening blushing from Eric. Nope. "I'm sure he'd like t'have the option of goin' or not. If you're able t'wait a bit? Can always wander on if he ends up bein' out later'n expected. Might wanna...let him know it's a good idea t'stay close t'you if he does go in that case, though?" He watches Eric's reactions closely. "Just gotta play it a little safe these days, or at least give good consideration t'doin' so." "Don't worry, Micah. I ain't gonna let anyone get hurt on my watch," Eric says, confidence loud in his voice. He grins, suddenly, a mischievous look that causes the smile to spread wide on his face and his eyes to glimmer. "Not unless they want to be hurt," he says, turning his head to turn that same smile very briefly on Jax. "I can wait. Ain't no rush, and the night's early yet." A pause. "So, how 'bout it, guys? Come ta the club with me?" "I thought you were here for Shane," Jackson's murmur is slightly distracted, though he does flash Micah a grateful smile for the tea. "And I'd be pretty --" His brow furrows, for a moment, "-- disappointed," he decides. "If you did bring him somewhere was gonna get him hurt." “Mmhmm, I’m not worried about /that/,” Micah comments on the consensual hurting.  The topic isn’t helping his blush to fade, however.  “Just the potential crowds of unfriendlies.  Don’t want y’all gettin’ into /trouble/, either.  Not just not hurt.”  He rubs a hand casually against the back of Jax’s neck at the flash of smile, just for a moment.  “Oh, this one’s been set on actually gettin’ work done.”  Unlike Micah, who has not gone back to his laptop!  “An’ work nights aren’t the /best/ times for me t’be goin’ out, either.  Always end up stayin’ out too late.  Regret it in the mornin’.” "I am here for Shane," Eric says, with a trace of puzzlement. "Ah - thank'ya." He picks up his tea and takes a long sip of it before he continues. "But I'm sure Shane'd be happy if you guys were ta come along. More the merrier. I can come for Shane and for you as well, yeah? I mean, now that I'm here." He grins at Micah and shakes his head. "All work and no fun makes'ya a bored boy. Come on. I'll get you home with enough time for your beauty rest," he says, sweetly. Another wink, and more sweet tea. Micah rakes his fingers through his hair, mussing it up a bit further.  “Mmn.  How about we revisit what time it is either when Shane gets back or you decide t’head out?” he compromises.  “Will give a better idea of how late things’ll go, knowin’ what start time is.”  He sips from his own glass again.  “’Least as far as I’m concerned.”  His gaze traces over to Jax, clearly not meaning to answer on his behalf. Jackson presses up into the rub, a sort of feline nuzzle to the motion. "Mmn," his eyes still fix on his screen -- a commission, it's someone's roleplaying character, a woman in leather armor starting a fire in some rather foreboding-dark woods. There are /things/ looking out of the darkness at her, kept at bay by the light. "-- don't you worry none," he tells Eric lightly, "we manage t'get /plenty/'a fun in -- s'sweet you're concerned, though." Eric grins at Jackson and crosses his arms over his chest, fingers tapping against the muscles of his arms. "Oh, I'm quite sure ya do, Jax. I'm quite sure ya do." He turns and winks at Micah. "If you want to take him int'a the other room, I ain't gonna complain. I'll sit here, real quiet like," he says, taking another sip of his tea and eyeing the other man over the rim of the glass. "Won't say a word." He mimes crossing his mouth and closing it with a few loose stitches. “S’comin’ along nice,” Micah comments idly of the progress on Jax’s work.  Jax’s comment earns a faint deepening of his blush, but then, oh.  Trust Eric to make it worse.  Red creeps right up along his ears and the back of his neck.  He hides behind his glass for the duration of another sip.  “He’s busy.  With the thing.”  Micah gestures at the laptop, where Jax is working diligently.  See?  Busy.  “Um.  So.  How’ve you been?” "He could be busier." Eric says, grin wide on his lips. He does, after a brief pause, answer Micah's desperate question with a shrug of his shoulders. "Much the same, ya know? Keepin' the streets safe as I can, and all that. Thinkin' of tryin' for a transfer again, soon, but. We'll see. Maybe stand for the Sergeant's exam first, if I think I got'a shot." He looks over Micah curiously for a moment. "How about you? How's the... doctorin'." he says, with only a moment of hesitation. If Eric is just trying to see if he can make Micah blush worse, he is rewarded.  Apparently there are shades yet to go.  “You lookin’ to transfer positions or locations?  Or both?” he inquires further, latching on to the bit of safe conversation.  “Lookin’ into promotions is good.  They got…classes or somethin’ for that?  I’ll admit I don’t know much about policin’.”  The ‘doctoring’ question earns a little smile.  “Oh, I’m not a doctor.  Degree’s a Master’s, so not that kinda doctor, either.  Just the equipment guy.”  He traces a finger along the side of his glass, toying with the beads of condensation forming there.  “Had a little slow-up in business for a couple of weeks, right when all the kids are away on summer vacations kind of at the same time.  Beginnin’ of July’s always like that.  Back into the swing of it now, though.” "Transfer. I've been lookin' to go ESU since I first started here, but..." Eric shrugs his shoulders and gives a little shake of his head. "Not classes, not exactly. Exams, yeah, and trainin'. But still." He shakes his head again and shrugs. "I've put in twice, got turned down both times. May need to try and get the stripes 'fore I do, again." A pause and he gives Micah an incredulous look. "Doctorin' is doctorin', doc." "What do they look for, exactly?" Jackson's fingers have tightened around his stylus. "-- To be a -- Sergeant." His eye is still quite fixed on his work. "-- Or ESU, I guess. S'like. /Extra/ policey, yeah?" "That's...emergency services, right?" Micah asks of the acronym. "Sorry t'hear that. Maybe with the extra trainin' an' stuff, yeah? Beef up the resume first." His eyebrows raise in tandem at the incredulous look. "But...I'm not. I mean, y'don't want me prescribin' your medications or doin'...anything in your OR," he concludes with a chuckle. "Yeah. I mean, they look for leadership to be a Sergeant. And knowin' all the policies backwards and forwards. I don't know if I'm really cut out for much'a it, but... I'd love to be doin' hostage work and some'a the dangerous work again. As much as workin' on a bicycle makes me look good." He pats his butt, seated in the chair as it is. "Fantastic for the glutes and all that." he says, a smile twisting up the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, it's still doctorin' to me." “Guess that means a lot of excitin’ readin’ of manuals.  Fun times,” Micah comments before crinkling up his nose and even sticking his tongue out just a little to express his opinion of /that/ variety of fun.  “Gah, hostage work.  More power t’you.  I think I’d just die of stress dealin’ with that kinda thing.  Just a little /too/ high-pressure.”  He shudders slightly.  “S’gotta be hard on the back after awhile, bein’ on a bike for hours, every day.  Though, I guess that’s less of a worry for you than average.” "Not much'a one at all, I think." Eric says, grinning. "But, yeah. It can be. They have doctors checkin' us out a lot, make sure we're not gettin' sick from it, and they try to limit the number'a shifts that you have on it." A pause, and his smile fades slightly. "We're short-shifted, though, so a lot'a that is goin' out the window, and coverage is down as it is." A pause, and the police officer flicks his attention to the ground before rising once more to look at Jax, then back at Micah. "Manuals? Worse - the law. Over n' over." He mimes shooting himself in the side of his head with two fingers. "That's gotta suck," Jackson comments, "you can't /even/ blow your brains out when you've had enough." He frowns up at Eric uncertainly. "-- you can't, can you?" “Well, that's good, at least. All the benefits with none of the drawbacks.” Micah chuckles softly, index finger still tracing around his glass. “Doctors must love you. Nothin' to fuss at /ever/. Don't know what t'do with themselves.” He nods at the commentary over staffing. “There's never enough folks t'do the real specialised jobs. 'Specially not when they're /dangerous/, too. Imagine you folks are kinda shorthanded perpetually. Budget cutbacks don't help either, I'm sure.” He pulls another face over the /law/. “I've always wondered what makes people wanna be lawyers, actually. Dealin' with that stuff just /all the time/. Drives me crazy enough makin' sure I follow all the regs. I've got to.” His eyebrows are getting quite the workout, shifting upward again at Jax's question. "I dunno. Don't see many, 'sides the ones that the force has." Eric reaches up and stretches out his arms, the muscles in his chest and back moving underneath the black mesh shirt as soft cracks come, muted, once, twice. "I mean, sure, I can blow my brains out same as ya can. Only difference is, all it does is make a bit of a mess." He shrugs and shakes his head. "Ain't fun, though, and I'm sure'ya could kill me that way if I tried hard enough." A shake of his head, and he looks back at Micah. "I've got better things to imagine than that, though," he says, and there is a sultry note in his voice - and a wink to top it off. "Hm," Micah responds simply as his mind spins over the idea of /just how/ Eric would be getting nerve tissues to regenerate that quickly! Not that that is the strangest manifestation of mutation that he's seen...just the one that he knows enough about to get thoughtful. Eric's elaboration brings him back from the brief, quiet musing. "That's...gettin' a bit macabre. I don't really wanna think how much straight-up /damage/ it would take t'get past the point of puttin' you back together. Just..." he shakes his head rather than come up with an end to that sentence. Unpleasantness. Then Eric is right back on with the comments and the winking. Apparently Micah's blush had gotten too much of a chance to fade? Pink slides along the spectrum back to red, as his eyes focus down at his glass again. Eric seems to enjoy watching Micah's face color back to red, and he chuckles softly, a rumbling sound that seems to come from somewhere between his chest and mouth. "Yeah, I gotta say, it ain't particularly somethin' I like to consider either. Besides, only one way to find out, and I kinda don't feel like goin' past that particular limit, ya know?" he says, before he takes a long sip of sweet tea and drains the glass. He gently places it back down on the counter and pulls out his phone, sending Shane another text. (Eric --> Shane): I'm at Jax's place. Micah's pretty when he blushes. “Yes...please don't test that out on purpose? All curiosity aside. Would be real inconvenient t'find your limits by actually /findin'/ 'em. No turnin' back from there.” Micah jumps up when a glass is emptied, moving back to the refrigerator to retrieve the tea pitcher and bring it out to the table. He refreshes Jax's glass and his own before giving Eric an questioning look. “More tea?” The pitcher gets a little shake, sending its contents sloshing just a bit. "Please, thank'ya, Micah." Eric says, placing his phone down on the counter in front of him and leaning back in his chair. "I might head to the club, soon. I don't mind waitin', but I'd hate to wait for a couple'a hours and find Shane already had plans, ya know?" He doesn't sound particularly sure about this, though, and glances down towards the floor with a frown. "Or I could wait here with ya guys and just hang out. Find somethin' to occupy my time with," here, a glance and a wink at Micah. "And if he shows, we go, else, I had fun here." Micah refills Eric's glass as soon as the 'please' is out of his mouth. He leaves the pitcher out on the table for ease of access before settling back into his seat. “Whatever you prefer. I can't speak t'Shane's schedule for the evenin', aside from visitin' his friend. An' there wasn't a real clear itinerary on that. You're welcome t'stay as long as y'like, but don't feel obligated.” Gah, more winking! His blush deepens again. “Y'got somethin' in your eye, there?” he teases back this time, however. There have been enough winks in a short period of time, after all! "I dunno. I might, later, if I'm not careful, and you don't give me enough warnin'." Eric does not seem to be fazed by the teasing. Quite the opposite, in fact, he leans forward a little bit and his smile widens. "Thank'ya for your welcome. I'm glad to stay, then, and see what the evenin' has in store." He says, lifting his glass in a salute to Micah before taking a long sip. He looks over at Jax then back to Micah, rolling his shoulders back one at a time. "Good sweet tea." There is room for reddening still, it would seem. "Eyelids flutterin' over potential future objects? That must get irritatin' after awhile. S'that a part of your ability or just a personal quirk?" Micah continues the banter despite the blushing, just moving right past it without acknowledgement. "Hopefully us homebodies aren't too terribly dull for you. But I s'pose, since you're free t'bail, that's on you more'n us, isn't it?" He laughs lightly at Eric's raised glass, though he does lift his own in turn before drinking as well. "Thanks. Can't get outta the South without figurin' a proper sweet tea first. Requirements an' all." "I was thinkin' more of potential future offsprin', but... Quite right," Eric says, smirking lightly. "Quite right." He grins and tilts his head first to one side, then to the other, rolling it around in a slow semi-circle. "Nah, ain't borin' at all, here. I quite like where this conversation's goin'." He drawls, voice light and teasing. He lifts the glass once more, putting it to his lips even as he says, "True that. Priorities and all." Micah's right eyebrow decides to strike out on its own this time, ticking upward. "S'that so?" he responds through another chuckle. "Glad you're entertained, at least." His head nods toward the glass. "Y'need somethin' t'eat, since y'may be here a minute? Think there's cookies or some such sittin' around..." He peers over his shoulder at the kitchen counter. It /is/ Jax's kitchen, after all. "Nah, I think I'm alright for food." Eric says, patting his stomach. "Don't like to eat too much before I go out dancin'. Just feels better when you're a little bit hungry, ya know?" he hesitates for a second and shakes his head. "I dunno. Maybe's just me." His smile flashes again, standing up from his seat to come around the corner, approaching Micah, sweet tea glass in hand. "Heya," he says, and his voice is sultry. One hand lifts, rising as if to touch Micah, then reaching right past him to the sweet tea pitcher, to pour himself some more. Grinning. “No, s'a good point. Food'll sit kinda heavy in the stomach when you're exercisin',” Micah concedes, settling against the back of his chair since it doesn't seem that another trip into the kitchen is needed. “Force of habit to try'n feed folks anyhow.” Hazel eyes track Eric's movements, his hand reaching for the pitcher. “Stayin' hydrated, though. Also a good plan. S'enough sugar in there t'keep energy up, too. Snacks or no.” "Yeah, my ma was the same way, even if there wasn't much to feed 'em. Maybe bein' a waitress didn't help much with that neither," Eric says, consideringly, placing the pitcher back down on the counter and taking a long sip of the now-refreshed glass. "As much as it was a Southern thing." He takes a step back and leans against the refrigerator door, arms crossing over each other contemplatively. "I don't rightly know which one did it more, but she would do her best. Coffee, whatever food we had, even if it was plain." "I'd guess at the Southern, m'self, but it does get t'be a habit, either way, if you're used t'bringin' things t'folks all the time." Micah twists a little in his seat to face Eric more easily. "Whereabouts were y'from again? Get a general idea from accents, but not good enough at that t'spot specifics, m'self." He retrieves his own glass again, raising it to his lips for a sip, but not returning it to the table afterward. His wrist moves in subtle circles, just enough to swirl the fluid in the glass. "Georgia, born and raised. Not too far from where Jax grew up, actually, I think." Eric says, flashing Micah a grin. He glances down at the counter for a moment, then shrugs his shoulders. "Alright. I've got the crave for some dancin', and I've got it bad," he says, almost sheepishly. "Would'ya like to come along? I promise a good time," he says, putting one hand over his heart with a grin. "If not, tell Shane I'm lookin' for him if you see him before he gets the chance to check on his texts." “I thought so, but couldn't remember if anyone had actually told me that before,” Micah replies with a nod. He answers Eric's grin with a warm smile. “Mmn, I actually should return t'my date with the computer.” His gaze tracks back to the laptop, though the look isn't precisely a fond one. “Though the visit was a welcome enough diversion. I'll deliver the message if I see him.” He stands to walk Eric to the door. “Not that I fear you'll be lackin' for company regardless,” he adds with a slight curl of a smirk. “Enjoy the club.”