ArchivedLogs:Feeding

Feeding
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Dusk, Melinda
In Absentia	8 March 2014 Post-surgery visitors. (Following the attacks at the protest.)
Location <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. It's been quite a few hours since the events of this afternoon. Jackson has unfortunately missed his later-afternoon appointments down at Inkline, something which he was no doubt /fretting/ over before anaesthesia kicked in. But now he's past fretting, a little bit groggy, a little bit worn, but at least patched /up/. Down in the basement isolation wards -- which were kind of turned into /makeshift/ surgery, since the Clinic isn't actually equipped to do what it is doing today. He's no longer impaled by arrows, instead just stitched and pale and garbed in a loose pair of scrub pants and no shirt, just a lot of stitches and bandaging and a white blanket pulled up over his chest. Surgery was, at least, uncomplicated by any organ damage, just a lot of torn muscle and a lot of lost blood. By now he's starting to be a little more /awake/, eye scrunching up like he has one heck of a headache. Jax's afternoon appointments were informed of their need to reschedule, as Micah has reassured him repeatedly, since Micah called in on his behalf. He looks a lot worse off than he is, with his medical attention requirements amounting to three stitches to the back of his head, cleaning his scalp and face, and throwing an ice pack over his shoulder periodically. His auburn hair is a great deal redder and messier than usual, however, matted down in several places with blood. His bottom lip has scabbed over thick and dark, and he's been favouring the left arm pretty obviously. His already bleach-stained xkcd 'Stand Back I'm Going to Try Science!" T-shirt and canvas jacket are both decently rust-coloured with dried blood now, his jeans only a little speckled. He's been doing a lot of standing and pacing and now sitting at Jax's side once he finally returned from surgery. It's taken Dusk a while to get here -- not because of any lag in actually arriving, he flew (literally) over the moment Flicker /called/ him. But after /arriving/ he's only had a long stint of /waiting/ for Jackson to be free for visiting. Probably he has paced the cafeteria /many/ times in the past hour or two. But finally he is escorted into the secure lower level by a guard. He's a little wired, a jittery-tenseness to his motions that probably stems from the /many/ cups of coffee he's been chugging upstairs. He's otherwise unremarkable, faded brown corduroys, a plain grey t-shirt under his Zoo York sweatshirt, Vans sneakers. "Seriously," he greets when he's badged in, "arrows. Is this a /thing/ now?" Melinda is last to arrive. It simply takes her longer to do things. She arrives well after the surgery and as his isolation time ends. She manages as only a pregnant woman can, to bully the guards to letting her down to see Jackson and Micah, the belly bolstering her authoritative mood. She saunters into the room, as best as the belly will allow, dressed for the colder parts of spring, waiting for that promised precipitation. She's wearing a rain coat that does not cover her front, with a layer of light sweater between her and the t-shirt below. She's wearing jeggings of all things, with rain boots, again in anticipation. Most notably, she is carrying bags. One bag has a Happy Cakes logo on it, while the other is smells a little more like rice and beans with cilantro and salsa. She enters without a word and looks around, keeping quiet to start. "Ohgosh." Jackson glances up when Dusk arrives, a slow smile brightening his expression. Tiredly. "I -- I don't know, maybe it's a. A fad?" He shakes his head slowly, slouching back against his pillows. "A really. Strange. Fad. Evil Robin Hoods." He closes his eye, tugging the blanket up a little higher. "-- Hi, Mel." His voice is warm, if sleepy. "S'it rainin' now? Earlier it was -- perfect-lovely for a -- for a --" His nose crinkles up. "For a gettin' shot at, 'pparently." "Dusk!" Micah moves in to (one-armed, after a small wince) hug the other man when he arrives. "Man, we should get you t'look at the arrows they got outta him. See if they look like the ones your girlfriend shot at you the other night. 'Cause we either got a serial anti-mutant archer or a /rash/ of 'em. I've got....really cruddy cell phone video from a distance of the person all wrapped up in hoods an' scarves an' stuff. If y'wanna look at that, too. At best the /bow/ might be distinguishin'." "Mel!" Apparently this is the standard greeting for people coming into the Clinic to visit? Micah doesn't try to hug her, suddenly...realising what a mess his clothes are and blushing fiercely instead after only a step or two taken in her direction. He /does/ eventually move to relieve her of her bags. "Oh, honey, thank you for comin'." The Happy Cakes bag causes another wince, though this one has nothing to do with physical pain. "I...should call Hanna an' let her know she may need t'take on a little more of the bakin' than we originally thought." "Was the person who shot at you /hot/?" Dusk's brows raise in very serious questioning as he moves to Jax's bedside, leaning in to press a kiss to the other man's forehead. "Did they make funny quips while trying to kill you? I don't know what I hope more, that there's a whole /band/ of archers out there or just one very /dedicated/ one." He stretches a wing out to brush lightly up against Melinda's arm when she arrives. "It /was/ gorgeous earlier, dude, you just /took/ all the sunshine with you. -- Oh my god did you bring food. He needs food." Though /Dusk/ is eying the savoury-smelling bag /hungrily/. "Bah. Call the thing off. This is kind of more important." Melinda sets down her bags and walks over and pulls Micah into a careful hug, not giving a care of he messes up her clothes. "It's not raining yet, but it might, later. Rain and/or snow, depending, is what I hear. I just have to be ready for everything." She releases Micah just as gingerly then scoops up her bags again, moving over to Dusk at the touch of his wing. "I got sweet and savory. Who is up for what?" "/What/ no way." Jax shakes his head firmly, struggling to push himself into a little more upright position and immediately just sagging back against the bed, a little paler than he'd been before. Belatedly he remembers he is in a /medical/-type bed, reaching to the /controls/ at its side to adjust the actual /bed/ into more of a sitting configuration. "We ain't cancellin' nothin', I've had /so/ much worse. I'll be /fine/ for /bakin'/ come tomorrow mornin', I'll just -- sit down at the kitchen table while I do it." He /blinks/ at Dusk's questioning, though. "Uh. They -- shot me in the /back/, I didn't even see -- an' they were way too far for /quips/, what -- on. Earth." He starts to lift his hand towards his face, but winces as his shoulder moves and drops his hand back to his lap instead before he can properly /facepalm/ at the other man. "Ohgosh. I do need /so/ much food but can I /start/ with the sugar?" "Because that's /clearly/ the biggest concern we have," Micah half-chuckles at Dusk, suddenly looking rather tired. "No, Mel, honey. We can't let these people get in the way of things like this. S'bad enough they're /hurtin'/ us. Your shower's happenin', just with one baker 'stead of two. Jax...sweetie, no. You just got arrowed in the back. Repeatedly. You're not bakin'. I'm /sure/ Hanna an' Jayna can handle it. They're like...professional at this. I was doin' most of the other cookin' /anyhow/ an' I can so still do that tomorrow early in the day. We'll be fine." He moves to Jax's side, brushing hair from his brow gently when the other man goes pale. "Honey, y'lost a lotta blood. Take it easy, okay? An' y'can have all the sugar you want. We'll run out an' get /more/ if y'need it." Micah's eyes do slide sidelong to the /other/ bag, however. "Though I'm havin' a wicked salt cravin'. Mel, you're an angel. An angel with food." "As it so happens," Dusk replies, moving closer to Jax's opposite bedside from Micah and leaning up against it, "I have /so/ fucking much blood to spare." He pushes back his sweatshirt sleeve; beneath it there's /already/ swath of white bandaging wrapped around his wrist. He lifts his brows questioningly to Jax, turning his hand upwards in implicit offering. "You'll be back on your feet in no time. With full baking chops and everything. -- man I am so tempted," he adds, wing squeezing closer around Melinda, "to just eat salsa /plain/ but I probably should have. Actual food." "Guys, it's just a party..." Melinda tries to protest, but she gives up quickly, pursing her lips as moves to an empty chair and starts fishing around inside. She wheels over the table and starts laying out the wrapped up bundle of corn tortillas, styrofoams of beans and rice, with a couple containers of chips and salsa as well. She then fishes a box of cookies out of the other bag, leaving the cupcakes for now, and crosses the room back to Jackson, sliding that box onto Jackson's lap. "Hanna sends her best wishes and best cookies." Her gaze shifts over to Dusk, her brows furrowing as she looks from the bandage to his face, then down to his bandage again. "It is /your/ party an' you're gettin' it. I already got /so/ many cute stencils made for --" Jackson stops with a crinkle of his nose. "Wait is it s'posed to be a surprise, I ain't quite sure how this works." He wriggles in a little bit of excitement at the cookies, immediately plucking one out of the box to peel it and make it /vanish/ in terribly short order. He is silent through the first two cookies, slowing only after a bite of the third. "Oh. Oh oh. She's such a angel. /You're/ such a angel, thank you." His smile fades after this into a very /sudden/ wash of contrition. "-- Oh. /Gosh/, you guys -- Micah -- I. This was supposed to just go /quiet/ an' /peaceful/ an' I didn't -- mean to be draggin' everyone into /another/ round of --" He stops with a hard swallow, shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth to shut himself up. He eyes Dusk's hand, reaching to curl his fingers through the other man's. His thumb brushes slow against Dusk's hand, and he pulls Dusk's wrist closer, but then stops hesitantly. "Oh -- sweetie but. You've already been -- with Hive, I don't want -- you can't just. Are /you/ gonna be -- okay? This has gotta be hurtin' you if you're doin' it /every/ day." "Mmn...he can feed from me after I eat an' drink a ton of water. T'make up for it," Micah assures Jax. "It seems like...not a bad idea t'make sure y'get better, honey." Nodding as Jax eats cookies, a little smile tugs at his lips. "Hanna's an angel, too. Just...alla you folks. Are amazin'." He keeps petting at Jax's hair. "Includin' you, Jax. It ain't like y'was /plannin'/ t'get filled up with arrows. Folks is just...crazy. I guess 'specially when it comes t'you. We might...maybe not take any of the kids with your core group at future protests, though. If folks is gonna keep bein' so crazy." He pulls a seat up to claim some food from the wheelie-table, a little faster about it now that there's a...food chain planned here. "It's -- tiring," Dusk agrees, honestly, "but I recover faster than most people do. And Mel's got all this delicious food /right/ here." He unwinds the gauze wrapping from his arm, crumpling it up to move aside and toss it in the trash. Beneath there are twin deep puncture wounds in his wrist, red and raw from daily re-opening not /allowing/ them to heal as fast as he normally would. "This is a clinic, there's gotta be bandages around here somewhere, right?" Not that he's waiting for an actual answer. He waits for Jax to finish his cookie but then dips his head, sinking long fangs back into his own wrist. His wings tense in a small rippling-twitch of pain that soon passes as he holds his arm up towards Jax's mouth, fresh dark blood welling from the two freshly widened holes. "-- What time's the thing tomorrow anyway I gotta make sure I drag Hive out of /bed/ on time. Uhhh. Are we supposed to, um, /bring/ shit? I mean aside from the presents. We're just supposed to bring presents right?" His mouth curls up, smile rather lopsided. "-- Dude have you met half those kids? I think you'll have a hard time keeping them away." "Oh good gravy," Melinda is having none of this guilt. She shakes her head and folds her arms over her chest. "Jax, how on earth are you responsible for some one attacking you? The inconveniences that follow are likewise not your fault. Please. Don't. Besides, if what you're doing helps changes legislation about mutants -- and my kid turns out to be mutant -- you're making strides on the kid's behalf too. I completely stand behind that." The rest of this causes Mel to take a step back, her brow furrowing. She is somewhat drawn to the spectacle, but more confused than anything. She instead turns away and moves to sit down, shucking off her rain coat as she does. She is quiet again. "/If/ it helps change legislation," Jackson says wistfully. He nuzzles up into the petting, relaxing beneath Micah's touch. His fingers grip Dusk's tighter when the other man twitches in pain, wincing sympathetically. "I mean. If." A small crooked smile curls at his mouth. "-- How many anarchists does it take t'change a lightbulb?" His head bows when the bleeding starts, lips parting and sealing against Dusk's wrist. His shoulders tighten reflexively in a kind of instinctive /clench/, eye screwing up at first -- there's no initial /relish/ in the coppery taste filling his mouth, just a twitching instinct to pull away. But he swallows hard, tongue lapping at the flowing blood; it doesn't take long before the more /druglike/ nature of it starts to kick in, though, and he sucks with a good deal more hunger, a pleased shiver running up his spine. "Afternoon. Folks'll start gatherin' up 'round two. Should be able to wander off before dinner time. S'a little on the fluid side. Um...don't gotta bring nothin' but yourself an' some ideas for decoratin' baby clothes with fabric pens. Don't worry, Jax made stencils. An' the e-mail's got Mel's registry on it if you're wantin' t'bring a gift." Micah just sort of babbles between bites of food taken with one hand, the other hand staying to pet at Jax's hair. "Yeah, listen t'Mel. She's talkin' good sense," he seconds regarding legislation and fault and whatnot. "Was that just a 'the lightbulb has t'change itself' joke?" He blushes a little at Mel's confused look. "Oh. Ohgosh, y'don't know that Dusk's blood is magic, do you? It's...it heals people faster. Might not've made it through my gunshot wound without it." "-- Oh. Right, sorry, without context this just looks --" Dusk grins, quick and sharp. "OK, even with context it's kinda fucking strange but /I'm/ kind of fucking strange so it's okay. I don't exactly go spreading it around all that much because -- well, the last people who found out locked me in a cage and tried to build super-soldiers off of me but. Yeah. It does a crapton more than heal, but healing's the most /functional/." His eyes slip slowly closed, and at the touch of Jax's mouth to his skin the next ripple of his wings is not pained-twitched but pleased, a quiet purring growl briefly sounding in his throat. He chuffs a quick exhale at the question and in its current self-deprecating context he has known Jax long enough to finish the joke dryly: "-- Jax, don't be silly. Anarchists never change anything." His wings shiver again behind him with the lap of tongue against skin, breath briefly catching. "Yeah, I'm not... disturbed," Melinda replies quietly, flashing the pair by the bed a small smile. "It just seems really intimate." She lets her gaze wander away, her hands scooping her hair into her fingers. She sections it and starts to braid it. "I mean, I .. didn't really know the other parts, so it's good to know." A little embarrassed, she stares at her fingers as they work. "I hope we have enough comfy chairs for all of our guests." Against Dusk's wrist, Jax's lips twitch slightly at the punchline to his rather self-directed joke. He points one finger at Dusk -- bingo. But doesn't stop drinking, cheeks flushing and pupil faintly dilated with the fierce rush the other man's blood tends to bring. Possibly better than painkillers. As Dusk starts to purr, Micah's blush deepens to a fine, vibrant red as it creeps its way up over his ears. It just kind of...matches the over-all bloodied look he's got going on for the day. A little half-snort answers the drier punchline that Dusk offers. "Oh, I'm sure there's a good number of seats at Hanna's. Um...we can always drag some things up from other apartments if we need. But considerin' the folks as are gonna be there, most of us kinda flop on the floor half the time anyhow." He keeps working steadily through his food. "It -- is kind of intimate, maybe. But we're all friends here." Dusk's throaty-soft purring continues even as he speaks, a quiet rumble that thrums underneath his words. "It, ah. It makes you stronger. And -- I don't know. Faster. Just kind of an all-around boost. /And/ you heal. /And/," he adds, with a curl of wing outward to brush against Jax's flushed cheeks, "-- for the first little while it tends to act kind of like a drug. There's a rush that -- /I/ get when I feed that. I guess so do other people." He pries his hand away from Jax's with a small twist of wrist, tugging back and curling his hand upward towards his own mouth as he wanders back towards the room's small bathroom. "-- but it's alright with a couple /holes/ poked in him he could probably stand to be a little bit high. And yeah I think most of us'd just be fine flopped out /wherever/ man you've seen /our/ fucking apartment it's a shithole, we sit on crates." Mel blushes as well before finishing off her hair with a tie and turning to grab a tortilla and fill it with food. "I see. It sounds pretty ... well, useful, all things considered. I mean, the healing stuff. I don't really know what to say about the whole notion of getting high. I mean, if he was in pain, it's good too. Did you want anything?" She lifts the tortilla for a moment, indicating it to the person in the bathroom. "I wasn't really thinking of the healthy people. They can flop just fine. It's more... well, our growing ... less than their normal selves group." Jackson gives a small whimper of protest when Dusk pulls back, but relinquishes the other man's hand back to him. His face is still flushed, tongue swiping against his lips. "Oh." He sounds -- very /pleased/, as he nestles back into the pillows. "Oh. Oh yes. I want --” His gaze is skipping over to Micah, and then to Dusk. He closes his eye for a moment, only belatedly sitting back up and plucking another cookie from his box. "Ohwow. I -- everything. Smells really good can I -- have. All of -- everything. -- oh. Oh." His eye widens at Melinda's explanation. "Oh wow /everyone's/ kind of. Hurt and sick and pregnant and. Spontaneously -- sort of -- sex changed -- a little -- lately, huh? We don't really have normal selves maybe." "S'long as we got good seats for you an' Hive an' Jax, I think the rest of us'll get by on whatever. That's like...one sofa worth of seats. Should be fine." Micah smiles slightly at Dusk. "An', yeah, the other effects are nice when you're hurtin'. Makes it...hurt less. An' makes y'think about it less." His blush ticks a few notches higher at Jax's look, which he otherwise doesn't acknowledge. "All kindsa food, absolutely. Let me...fix you a plate, too." He gathers materials for a loaded tortilla, bringing the plate over to Jax. "Y'want help with it or...? I'm not sure how much your arm movements were compromised by the arrow wounds or how much pain there's still... I can feed it t'you if you want." "Oh -- shit, yeah, I'l --" Dusk glances out of the bathroom at the tortilla. "I'll be out in a sec I just -- don't want to fucking -- bleed all over everything." Right now he's just running water over the injury. "But shit I /so/ want -- I don't know, /everything/? What's even out there." He shuts off the water, returning in short order with a folded up pair of paper towels held tight against his wrist. He folds one wing in to keep the towels pressed to the injury, meandering back over by Melinda and pressing his other wing lightly to her back. "Normal's overrated. And now I'm totally curious what effect crazy fucking mutant healing would even have on pregnancy -- not, uh, that we should experiment or anything. Plus it mostly also just makes you," he nods towards Jax, "/kind of/ high and /kind of/ horny and we already have one of those." "He'd probably really like it if you fed it to him," Melinda adds, her tone matter of fact. She listens to Dusk wash up in the bathroom and holds the wrap she's made for the time being. "Oh, there's not much. I kind of kept it simple because I was rushed. Rice, beans, salsa, cilantro. No dairy, nothing Jax couldn't eat, just in case the smell would bother him while he's on medication. I suppose that's less of an issue now. There's more salsa, chips and guacamole, too." She leans into the embrace and offers the wrap to Dusk. "We can experiment some other time, okay? I mean, I would rather not subject the kid to anything, unless it was needed - and we've got a few people down for the count right now." "I don't know -- anyone normal." Jax reaches for the plate, fingers resting over Micah's. "My arm feels awesome." He tips his head forward, nuzzling briefly against the older man's shoulder. "But you could feed me /anyway/. Or just. Touch." His eye closes, cheek pressed to Micah's shirt. "Oh. Oh cilantro /and/ guacamole that. Sounds. Like a heaven can I have every guacamole. -- wait." Abruptly his eye widens. "Why are we experimenting?" Yeah, there's going to be continued blushing for some time, between the horniness comments and suggestions on feeding. "There's guacamole in this. I'll get y'some more with chips after, maybe? Too many things on a plate in bed's invitin' spills. An' if y'think your arms feel great I'm /really/ not trustin' your judgement on how much help y'need." With that, Micah climbs up beside Jax to facilitate bringing food to the other man's mouth for him--no arm lifting required. "I think we /aren't/ experimentin'. Dusk was just curious how his blood would affect a fetus in utero. Which is a fine thought experiment...but not somethin' we're doin'. Not t'worry." "Oh yeah no. We don't experiment with people 'till they're old enough for consensual experimentation," Dusk assures Jackson. His wing tightens around Melinda, and he reaches his free hand up for the wrap. "-- man we do kind of have a lot of people down for, ah." He frowns. "Flicker looked half a zombie by the time he got out of here, nobody better have any /more/ emergencies tonight, I think he kind of puked his guts out in the bathroom after --" He waves his wrap towards Jax and Dusk. "Emergency evacuating." He takes a large bite of wrap, humming happily at the taste. "-- You'd probably end up with some sort of freakish-strong vampire baby if we did it regular," he conjectures to Melinda. "You probably don't want a vampire baby." "Not fully sure I could tell the difference at the start. Kid's going to be sucking on me for the first year anyway." Melinda shakes her head and closes her eyes, resting her temple against Dusk's side before rising slowly and getting herself a tortilla and filling it. "And yes. There will be no experimenting-experimenting. Just recreational... fun stuff when the child is not in the picture. I don't even volunteer to feed Dusk, well, now that I know I'm pregnant." She inhales deeply and turns to look at the married couple on the bed, a small blush in her cheeks. She turns back to Dusk again. "Sorry to hear about Flicker. Suppose he just needs to sleep it off?" "Really powerful kicks," Jackson explains to Melinda. He opens his mouth for a first bite of food but after this ignores the plate entirely; with Micah climbed up in bed /next/ to him he slides closer, nestling in against his husband's side with a small pleased sigh. His head nuzzles in against Micah's shoulder, a very faint shimmer of glow blossoming in the air around him. "Dusk /is/ a drug. Probably not good to -- do drugs. While pregnant. And he -- he makes -- everyone feel so -- so -- soooo." His smile widens happily. "No...nursin' a vampire baby'd prob'ly get real awkward real fast," Micah conjectures with a nose crinkle...and redder flush to his cheeks. "Flicker carried /a lot/ of us out of there. A good distance, an' real fast. Prob'ly he could use some fussin' over, too. Maybe make 'im some ginger tea when y'get home?" He wraps an arm around Jax's shoulders when he snuggles close, but his husband's ignoring the food doesn't mean that /he/ is, as well. After a few moments he brings another bite up for him to eat. "You're completely stoned...but should at least finish this. Guacamole, remember?" "Oh, yeah, he'll be fine after a good meal and some sleep." Dusk's wing falls away from Melinda's back when she gets up to get herself food. "I don't know, it wouldn't be /that/ bad, would it? None of /you/ seem to mind when I suck on --" He stops and considers this after a moment, though. "... OK, no, I guess infants aren't really very /careful/ about fangs though. Uh. Hypothetically. I can't say I've met /many/ infants with fangs. -- Oh jesus," his eyes are suddenly wider, "shit can you imagine nursing the /pups/? Mel, be glad you aren't giving birth to sharks." The comment about him being a drug just makes him chuckle. "People tell me my bite is -- I don't know. I think they're just trying to make me feel better about it." "Okay, sure, keep rubbing it in, yet another pleasant thing I can't have during pregnancy. Let me add that to the cold medicine, pain killers, booze, and a good night's sleep." Melinda scrubs at her forehead for a moment before she curls up the tortilla in her hands and takes a bite, some of the salsa dribbling down her cheek in a single drop. She brushes at it, only after she transfers most of the food to one hand to hold securely. The hand moves back to hold the food quickly, her wrap not the most secure, despite its thin diameter. She stops eating when they start talking of fanged and toothed children. "Oh... yeah. um. I'm just going to go with the thought that kids like the twins didn't need to nurse and were able to be fed meat rather quickly, which I have no problem doing." "Well you could still -- have Dusk," Jackson assures Melinda earnestly. "Just not the fang part but -- there's a /lot/ of the /rest/ of him and s'/all/ so. So pretty." He's not paying much attention to the food Micah is offering, just nuzzling in against the older man's chest, hand slowly creeping over Micah's stomach to slip beneath the hem of his shirt. He shakes his head, though, drowsy-happy smile fading into a sudden frown at the thought of the twins. "I think they /needed/ -- but I don't think they /got/. Their -- mother never." The glow around him is very /swiftly/ replaced instead by a murky haze of shadow. "They didn't have. Nursing just. Cages and beatings and. Mmnrgh." He turns his face in to bury it against Micah's shirt. Apparently there were some shades of red that Micah hadn't found yet, because they're making an entrance now. He hides himself a little bit behind Jax. Though Dusk's comment has him peeking back out. "How could y'/possibly/ still think that, Dusk? Honey, it's like...y'see how Jax is from drinkin' your blood? That's kinda...what it's like when y'bite people." At least Maximum Blushing had already been achieved. He keeps trying to get Jax to eat until the other man becomes upset thinking about the twins. At that, he deposits the tortilla back on the plate and wraps his arms around Jax instead. "Honey, it's okay now. You took 'em away from all that an' gave 'em a home an' a better life an' they're /ours/ now. So they get t'be taken care of right." Forgetting the rather spectacular split in his lip, he leans in and kisses Jax on the top of his head. Then flinches as this movement tugs at the new scab. Dusk breathes out a quick laugh as he is apparently /offered/ to Melinda; his wing curls back around her through this soft laughter. He busies himself with a few more hungry bites of food, licking guacamole off the corner of his mouth. "Was shitty," he agrees about the twins, "and now they have a home so --" He shrugs a shoulder. His brows raise at Micah's wince. He glances down at his wrist -- still unbandaged, just paper towels pressed against it that have been slowly seeping through with blood -- and turns his hand upward in offering. "I mean. If you're okay with Jax's sloppy seconds. Jax is --" he adds to Melinda, "-- well, /high/. But not wrong there's still plenty of fun that doesn't include. Uh. Venom. You know I never would've thought of that as a /recreational/ thing before now." "How about this, if my kid comes out with teeth, I'll pump and find suitable, durable nipples for the suckling." Melinda is less red now and a little more distracted as she turns her wrap in her hands gently. "Kid'll still get the best of care from me. There will be no cages and beatings, just... well, play pens and beds with rails for protection." She inhales deeply and looks over at Dusk with a small smile, sidling back to his side. "You are never sloppy seconds, hun. I promise you that. And the bite? I kind of miss it." "Are you going to heal /everyone/. You need," Jackson advises, turning to peek when Dusk offers his arm out, "to grow your beard out more if you're going to play Jesus." He closes his eye again, nuzzling sleepily back into Micah's side. "Okay. No cages. Or beatings or." A shudder runs up him. He falls into quiet, the dark around him deepening. "'kay," he mumbles again quietly. "/Dusk/," Micah replies with an air of admonishment. "Remember the part where you've been givin' blood t'Hive every day /and/ just healed Jax? You're s'posed t'be feedin' from me, not the other way 'round. Y'need t'...replenish your stores or...however that works." His head shakes slightly. "I got a couple cuts an' bruises. Nothin' worth you bleedin' more over. I just...forgot t'be careful with my face." He almost smiles at this last, before Jax darkens more. His arms tug Jax in tighter. "It'll be okay, honey. An' we all know Mel's baby's gonna get the best possible care, an' /all/ of us t'come along with it. Think the worst risk we've got right now is spoilin' the little one rotten." "Mmm." Dusk curls his wing back in tight against the paper towels. "Jax is right, I really don't have the beard for this. Think I might let it grow though. Walk around like the Pandemic medic Jesusing everything. Or at least looking beardy enough for the part. -- Geh. Need more paper towels," he grumbles, wing twitching away from the sticky blood-spots seeping through on his. "And I'm bleeding /anyway/ man it might as well go somewhere useful." Though he's not moving away from Melinda's side, wing curling snug around her. "Think Micah's right. I mean look how many fucking parents Spence's ended up with. This kid's going to be so freaking /coddled/." Melinda leans in and kisses the side of Dusk's neck, closing her eyes for a moment. "How about you go feed while I eat, then we leave these two alone to, well, snuggle each other to sleep. You can probably have a little, Micah," she turns to look at him, "while I go fetch some bandages. It's not really fair to have the paper towels have all the fun, eh?" She studies the pair for a little bit, before giving Dusk another kiss and pulling away. Jackson doesn't really answer any of this. He might have gotten a jumpstart on the snuggling to sleep. At least, he isn't moving from where he's nestled in snug at Micah's side, breathing slowing and his face still nuzzled into Micah's side. The dark shadow around him is fading, though it's slowly becoming replaced by a misty grey haze farther out in the room, vague half-images sluggishly starting to form and then melting back into inchoate fog. Micah gently extricates himself from Jax. "I'll be right back. Just gotta take care of Mutant Jesus over there an' I'll be back almost 'fore y'notice," he reassures, despite relative certainty that Jax is asleep or at least quite close to it. "We can prob'ly borrow an empty treatment room. It /is/ Saturday, after all. Place is pretty much deserted. An' I think Mel would rather eat in peace if given the option." Micah stoops to retrieve his first aid bag before moving to offer Dusk a hand getting back to his feet. "Then I'll get your wrist tidied up." Dusk's eyes flick out to the foggy half-images starting to form around the edges of the room. He finishes off his wrap in another couple quick bites, licking his fingers clean after. His wing squeezes gently around Mel -- with a very faint nudge towards the door as well. "Not sure there's going to be much peace in here if he's drifting off," he comments mildly. "S'plenty of empty rooms down here though, we got to know them /well/ enough getting guinea pigged for zombie -- crap." His gaze drifts back to the edges of the room. With a small furrow of brow, he shakes his head and folds his wing back in against his back. He curls hand around Micah's forearm as he pulls himself up to standing again, leaning in to kiss Jax's forehead softly. "Love you," is soft. Softer still: "You're a better man than you ever seem to know." He straightens, heading for the door with a more cheerful: "-- And /I'm/ sure as fuck not registering."