ArchivedLogs:A Mercy

A Mercy
Dramatis Personae Jack, Jax, Shane
In Absentia	2015-11-03 'Maybe this will pass.' (part of flutp)
Location <XS> Study
Quieter than the neighboring library, the study actually /is/ a retreat for those who want to sit and work. Lacking the larger social tables, this room has only single solitary chairs, individual soft lamps assigned to each. The high bay windows allow plenty of light, and the understated elegance of the room with its grated fireplace (often crackling, in winter) is an invitation to quiet work. It's unusual how quiet the school is today, with so many sick and absent, sleeping and sluggish and generally Out Of Commisison. The study is quiet, too, but /that/ part isn't unusual; this room tends to be a more peaceful haven. Today, nearly empty, except for one colourful art teacher curled up into an armchair with a laptop and a tablet, a cup of tea near-empty at his elbow. Jax is in wide-wide-wide-wiiide legged jeans, pooled loosely around him, and a thin-strapped tank top, black mesh layered over deep red. His brow is furrowed, shoulders (one shoulder is wrapped around in clean white gauze) tensed, hand gripping his stylus a little too tight as he draws. The door opens quietly, closes quietly. Shane is in plain dark slacks, a long knee-length maroon tunic embroidered in red at its edges. He has a thermos in hand and a tablet tucked under his arm; the tea he pours from it into Jax's nearly-empty mug is hot and fresh. He sneaks a quick peek at his dad's laptop screen, but ultimately just settles down onto the floor, setting the tablet in his lap and leaning back against Jax's knees. Quiet keeps happening, door opening and closing a short while after Shane makes his entry. This time, a floating pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt with waves on it, and a backpack enter the room. Jack doesn't notice he's not alone until he's two steps into the room and he lifts a sleeve to offer a little wave. "Ah...hi." Jax's screen is mostly filled with blood. Torn flesh, scraps of limbs fused together in odd configurations, half-rotten skulls with bared chomping teeth; no actual fully formed /people/, really. He exhales slowly, glancing up with a very small smile when Shane refills his cup. His hand drops, petting absently at Shane's spiky head. 'Thank you,' he signs, eyes shifting back to his work. He glances up again when Jack enters. He lifts his hand, stylus waggling in greeting. A cartoonish speech-bubble pops up above his head, the text in it printing in neat spiky handwriting, bold and purple. 'Sick. No talking.' Shane's gills flutter, jaw clenching as he looks at Jax's work. He settles a little more heavily against the older man's knees, turning his head slightly to bite -- smallchomp -- at a kneecap. Then look back at his tablet. "{Well, no talking English, anyway.}" This is in Spanish, without looking up. "{You're not dead yet. Good.}" Jack pauses and gives himself a mental kick. His shirt collar shifts a little as he nods, switching to Spanish once he hears Shane. "{Sorry,}" he replies, letting out a breath. "{No, not dead yet. Still only playing a ghost instead of being a real one. Good you're not dead either. How are you both feeling?}" Jax's brow furrows, scrunching inward as he struggles through the Spanish. 'Tired,' his cartoon bubble finally answers. 'Fuzzy. Hoping to get past this soon.' His eye flicks down to his screen, briefly. 'Hoping we all get past this soon.' "{Feeling like this is kind of an awkward time for the Clinic doctors to go all evil, seeing as Rasheed and Io kind of -- stopped the apocalypse the /first/ time around.}" Shane sets his tablet down, picking up his thermos. His claws click against it rapidly. "{Even evil genocidal bigots hate zombies though, right? That's -- something everyone's pretty united on?}" "{I hope so too,}" Jack sighs, flopping back into the chair closest to Jax and Shane. He then ends up looking like confused empty clothes. "{Wait, what? The clinic doctors are evil now?}" Jax grips his stylus tighter, scowling at his screen. His head shakes once; after a moment he starts twirling the stylus rapidly between his fingers. 'Dr Toure, yes. Unfortunately.' There's a delay before his speech bubble fills in additional clarification: 'Found out he was working for Prometheus. Hard to know who to trust anymore.' "{/Founded/. Motherfucker /founded/ Prometheus.}" There's a harsh growl in Shane's voice. "{Each other. All we've ever had. Sorting through the rest of the world's too much fucking work.}" Though oddly, through this, his grin is bright. Fierce. "{And I'm sick. That's like an automatic excuse not to work.}" For a long moment, Jack is silent. He just stares at Jax's speech bubble and at Shane as he tries to process this information. "{Well...fuck,}" the most severe swear he's used in a long while. A moment later, his shoulders slump a little apologetically. "{Sorry, sir,}" he directs towards Jax. "{What...is there anything that can be done about him? Like...after all...this? I mean he can't keep...working there, can he?}" Jack takes a moment to open his backpack and take out a bottle of water. After a swig, he sighs again. "{Not a lot of people not sick from what I noticed.}" 'Pretty much.' Jax's nose wrinkles up, his head bobbing in agreement with that swear. 'You don't gotta apologize, I'm pretty sure if anything calls for swearwords it's this. And I don't know, honestly. Been suspended from the Clinic. Gone AWOL far as I know. Not a great moment for it, though, if this /is/ zombie plague again he knows more about it than 'most anyone. Much as the thought of working with him makes me sick to my stomach.' "{Only fair though, really, isn't it? Prometheus fucked up Vector's life. Weaponized him. He /should/ be responsible for undoing all the harm that's come out of it.}" Shane's head rolls to the side to face Jack, his bared teeth less grin-like, now. Juuust bared. One large CHOMP, and then another, teeth clacking together. "{/I/ know what the fuck to /do/ with him.}" "{So sick either way,}" Jack mutters. He slumps back into his chair, sleeve lifting as he rubs his eyes. He gives a quiet laugh at Shane's answer, no real energy in it. "{Biting him might just lead to getting sick. Chomping into slime can't be good.}" 'Blech yeah Jack's right he'd just taste like scum. I'll bake you cookies, no filth in 'em.' Jax shudders, tongue sticking exaggeratedly out of his mouth. 'Anyway if you want to off him you're gonna hafta get in line. Not even sure how we're gonna track him down if we /do/ need him for this, if the man's got two braincells to rub together he'll have gone into hiding the moment the Clinic canned him.' His stylus is back to twirling between his fingers. 'Getting ahead of myself, though. We don't even know for sure -- maybe this will pass. Maybe this will pass.' "{Dude's a fucking rockstar surgeon I'd /hope/ he's got some brains in there.}" Shane's claws click quickly against the thermos again. There's a small growl in his chest as he tips his head back, nips lightly at Jax's knee. "{Sure. I'll take cookies. Not till you're better though.}" Jack smiles invisibly at the interaction between Jax and Shane. "{If there's anything I can do to help, I'd like to,}" he offers. "{If there's anything you guys want me to go run and get, I can do that too,}" Jack adds. 'Paying real close attention to all the folks around. If you notice anyone kind of zoning out when they say things or repeating words, keeping a list of words you notice problems with would be real helpful -- if everyone /is/ sick, it's going to be pretty hard for /us/ to even notice once it starts getting worse so it'd be useful' Jax blushes, the speech bubble briefly vanishing. Then reappearing. 'Oh did you mean like. Right now? Because if there's soup leftover from lunch that -- would also. Be a mercy.' "{Think he meant both.}" Shane's smile is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he settles back in against the base of the armchair, cheek tucked against the side of Jax's leg. "{Nobody's going to be saving the world on an empty stomach, after all.}" Again, Jack's shirt collar moves slightly with his unseen nod. "{Both,}" he replies. He manages a small smile as he gets up. "{I'll see if there's any left,}" he says. Of course he'll probably try to make some more if there's not. "{Be back soon,}" he offers as he heads for the door.