ArchivedLogs:Strong Kind of Beautiful

Strong Kind of Beautiful
Dramatis Personae Sean, Jackson, Micah
In Absentia	1 April 2014 Aaart.
Location <NYC> 605 {Sean} - One Sixty-Seven - Upper West Side
The floorplan leans towards an open one, meant to allow light to flood through the apartment when the curtains are set to open. A long comfortable 'L' shaped couch is set in front of a flat screen television though from the look of the couch it tends not to be used that much. A larger part of the space seems devoted to an art work space, with plastic tarp weighted down in a large square area. Canvases on easels, marble blocks, and occassionally a clay spinner is set in the middle to be his medium of choice. Having sent an invite via email to the fellows now that he seems aware that health is at a good state of affairs, Sean's apartment seems to have had many things brought into it in preparation of arrival. Stacks of cardboard boxes labeled "ART STUFF" are sitting in a corner, with the cookie container sitting in front of it with a few folded up pieces of sketchbook paper folded up neatly inside of it. There is also a veritable buffet of take out containers sitting on the counter, unlabeled, but he has a menu for an indian place sitting beside it, and from the looks there is probably one of everything vegan sitting there and a stack of naan sitting on tinfoil. Pacing back and forth in front of the door, he looks out the peep hole every few minutes to make sure he hasn't missed a knock, he pulls the door open as soon as he sees his guests, and smiles simply says "Hello." He is wearing a pair of clean black jeans that hug his legs well, and a flannel button up shirt partially buttoned and not at all tucked in. Jackson looks /very/ unlike he did the last time Sean saw him, head shaved down to the skin, his million scars and million tattoos and million piercings all gone, save for an ornate set of carved plugs in his gauged earlobes. He doesn't have any makeup, either, no flamboyant clothes, only a very plain set of jeans and a maroon Cooper Union tee underneath a Xavier's sweatshirt. He has a covered dish in hand -- pecan pie -- and a /bright/-warm smile once the door is opened. He's a little jittery-bouncy, restlessly bobbing on his toes, and this wired-energy carries him in through the door to offer Sean a one-armed hug. "Hihihi!" His tone is just as chipper-wired as his bouncy ceaseless motion. "Oh /gosh/ did you get us a /feast/." Admittedly, Micah doesn't look all that different from usual, just more thrift-store worn than his own gear worn. He's dressed in an army green canvas jacket and olive newsboy cap over a plain charcoal henley shirt and faded bluejeans, well-broken-in hiking boots on his feet. He has a four-pack of Crispin hard ciders in one hand.../maybe/ to make up for all the vodka that was consumed last time they were over. The other hand is tucked against Jax's waist as he follows behind the more energetic man. "Evenin', Sean. Oh/gosh/, is this all just for us comin' over?" "I wasn't sure what you would like, so I figured if I asked Angela to order one of everything then that would do it. And you can take leftovers, and I can take leftovers," Sean replies with a bit of a nod, and surprisingly not surprised by the change of appearance as he hugs back the Jax, and provides Micah with hugging as well. "I'm just glad you guys are okay. I mean I /Knew/ you were okay, but there is a difference with actually being here. And I knew you guys had, well, all that. So food. And other stuff, but food first." Gesturing them in and away from the door, he gets things closed up as he makes his barefooted way over squishy carpet into the tiled kitcheny area. "Do you want like, tea? Or coffee. I can put the cider in the fridge probably, and I have booze too, but I am trying to not have as much booze after the last time." Making a face at the thought of all the vodka from last time, he swings open the fridge, which seems full of various random bottles of things, and old take out containers. "Oh, juice, I have juice too. Like the orange stuff, and papaya, and pineapple. And well, stuff. I had like a bunch of stuff delivered, so it's all kinda crammed in." There is an energy to the man, perhaps like he's been caffeinating all day. Jax's hug is fierce and tight and very /uncomfortably/ warm, radiant heat from him considerably higher than his usual. "Oh /wow/ okay one of everything that sounds delicious it /smells/ delicious thank you you didn't hafta -- /oh/ I brung pie." He cuts himself off mid-sentence, holding up the pie plate as he sheds his sneakers by the door and follows after Sean. He deposits the pie plate with a soft thunk onto the counter beside the Indian food. His cheeks flush /deep/ crimson at the mention of the last time, head bowing. "Oh, oh gosh, m'so -- I /apologize/ about last time I don't -- don't hardly /never/ drink let alone that /much/ it was just --" He crinkles his nose, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "Juice would be /great/ jus' -- jus/ plain straight-up orange is good. How've /you/ been I -- woulda been in touch more lately but it's been /jus'/ a tiny-bit hectic." "Sure can if y'like." Micah passes over the drink container after returning Sean's hug. "Ohgosh, yeah...no. Definitely no drinkin' as much as last time. On top of it /actually/ bein' a decent amount, this'n's got no tolerance t'speak of, so he was right /lit/." His elbow pokes slightly at Jax's side before he busies his now-freed hands with removing his boots before proceeding any further into the apartment. "Tiny-bit," he echoes his husband's assessment of the hectic nature of things lately. "No, no it's okay. It was necessary. I just hadn't ever done stuff like that. If you need me to look in the future I can. I mean not /Drawing/ the future, I meant later," Sean takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "Sorry I've been trying to get everything ready all day and I've had like ten espressos. Or something like that." At the statement on orange juice, he puts out a bottle of orangina, a bottle of blood orange soda, and a carton of orange juice. "Orange, check." Looking to Micah, he nods. "I know. Well I don't know but like. When Jax didn't reply to the email, I kinda got worried. So I drew you guys now and then to make sure that nothing... well that you were okay. I put the pictures in the tupperware, I didn't want to be creepy or anything, just worried." He looks a little embarrassed at the statement and shoves his head in the fridge a bit till he's better then picking out a bottle of elderflower-rose-lemonade thing on the counter for himself. "What would you like? I don't know if I have everything for a mango lassi. I know that is sorta what you have with Indian food, but every time I make it myself it ends up tasting kinda like cardamom exploded in mango coconut yogurt..." "Oh -- oh gosh did you draw -- was I all /blowed-up/ an' ugly?" Jackson's eye widens, abruptly perhaps fretting about this. "If you saw me all hideous jus', like, block it outta your memory I was kinda a mess -- though I guess you probably, um, know that." His cheeks are not getting any /less/ red at both this thought and the mention of his lack-of-tolerance. He ducks his head further, leaning back into Micah's elbow-poke. And then, very suddenly and very curious: "You /can't/, um, draw the future, can you?" His smile returns bright and wide at the mention of lassi. "I make a real good mango lassi if y'got -- um, things. Mango puree or jus' frozen mangos -- or not frozen mangos -- an' coconut milk an', um, little bit'a cardamom. Maybe some vanilla. Touch'a lemon juice --" His blush is returning again as he leans against the counter. "... but also juice'll do /me/ jus' fine." Micah peeks around the corner into the kitchen at the question of drinks, just looking over what is already out. "Blood orange's fine for me, please," he informs in a light easy-to-please tone. "Oh, y'was /drawin'/ t'figure out how we was doin'? Apologies, honey. I was almost the only one from our buildin' left with a phone an'...well, /everybody/ got set on fire an' I know first aid, also, so it was a madhouse. Several. Madhouses. Don't fully excuse poor manners in not gettin' t'messages, regardless, but I just threw my hands up on it eventually." His cheeks take on a touch of sheepish-pink at that. "An' ain't nobody... Honey, you're gorgeous. Nobody's judgin' nothin' based on you just bein' on fire or whatnot. Gracious. Seen you almost killed /far/ more ways'n I care t'count an' you bein' ugly ain't never crossed m'mind." His fingers trail up the back of Jax's neck since he's ducked away and all. "Yeah I kinda saw a bit. But I also saw you all better. So it's okay," Sean says as if he's trying Not to think about the earlier drawings. "Um... I don't think I can draw the future? I mean...I draw what I'm trying to draw but I think it's only the Now. Which quickly becomes the then, because I really can't draw things as fast as now expires." Shaking his head, he unscrews his lemonade stuff and takes a sip, "Okay, bleh. This sounds way better than it tastes. But yeah, I don't even know where I would begin in trying to draw something at a different time. My head might explode." Sliding the blood orange over to Micah, he shakes his head at the ingredient list. "I have mango juice, and the other stuff. But no puree or anything. So pre bottled stuff it is." Pushing the lemonade bottle away from him, he grabs a bottle of papaya juice and sips it. "Okay that's better. But yes, you are okay. And we are here, and we have food and you have stuff you can take home." "We kinda got a whole /host/'a madhouses," Jackson agrees -- almost cheerfully, or maybe it just seems that way because he's still restlessly /bouncing/ up-down-up-down, hands braced against the counter. "Maybe that's what we shoulda called the Commons instead. I don't doubt it'll be /jus'/ as mad there." A small happy shiver trails up him at Micah's touch and he turns his head just slightly to stick his tongue out at his husband. "/I'm/ judgin'," he explains with a giggle, "m'an artist I /like/ things bein' pretty -- okay, though, actually, I draw stuff that's pretty /horrifyin'/ a lot of the time an' -- actually have painted a /couple/ pictures before with everyone bein' on fire. Though funnily enough they was in Ryan an' Dusk's rooms, so, now the /pictures/ are -- on fire. Or were." For a moment he looks faintly wistful. "... had a lotta pictures go up in flames. Hive's already made me promise once I graduate an' got some /time/ back to re-do his favourite one." He eyes his orange-drink selections, only now finally taking the juice for himself. "-- mmm. I wouldn't want your head to explode or nothin' /that's/ for sure. S'jus' been some /odd/ things lately an' -- well it'd be interestin' if someone /could/ see the future." Catching the little bottle of blood orange soda, Micah unscrews the top and sips from it, nose bunny-crinkling at the tickle of carbonation. "Now I'm picturin' the whole Commons done up in Cheshire Cat theme," he giggles at Jax's mention of...well, all being mad here. "Losin' art's hard. S'one of the harder things t'replace." His fingers tink-tink-tink against the side of the bottle. "But, no. I'm fine with...most people not havin' future-seein' abilities. An' time travel can stay quite /firmly/ in fiction where it's entertainin' an' nothin' more." "Well you can take the boxes with you and then you'll have what you need to redo those pictures," Sean says with a grin as he hands over plates to the two. "I... may have gone overboard with that. But I figured all your supplies got torched, and well, now you will have new things that aren't torched. But, you can look at what all is in the boxes later." Taking his own plate, he starts to scoop various bits of everything onto his plate until it is multi-colored. "I, didn't really know what you liked Micah. I mean, I know you had geeky shirts and stuff. But yeah, if you needed anything replaced I can help with that too. " He looks embarrassed either way, and shoves a spoonful of dal into his face to prevent saying stupid things. "If I leave my grin behind, remind me that we're all mad here, and it's okay --" Jackson starts to sing beneath his breath, a quiet tune that cuts off with an abrupt: "Wait." His eye opens wide very /suddenly/, his hand curling tighter around the carton of orange juice and a shiver of sunny-yellow glow around him. "Wait, those boxes is for /me/? I mean, you got -- you got me -- for /real/ because oh my gosh I jus' lost my -- my /everything/ and --" He turns to look at the boxes, then back at Sean. He sets the orange juice back on the counter, darting in to curl his arm around the other artist and squeeeeze tight. There may be a bit of a damp /glisten/ to his eye when he pulls back. "-- oh gosh oh /gosh/. Everyone's -- been so /wonderful/." "Oh, honey. The worst of tryin' t'replace things that we lost was...Shane's violin an' Jax's artwork an' supplies. An'...someone real generous just got Shane a new violin. An' if you're replacin' Jax's art supplies, ain't... That's what I needed the most. Once everybody got out okay. So thank you." Micah smiles at Jax's sudden glow and excited hugging. "I'd been livin' out of a van for months 'fore I met Jax. An' the van's pulled through just fine. Most of what I need t'replace'll be a few trips t'websites that sell T-shirts an' a couple comic book stores an' craft stores, honest." Eeping and shifting the plate to be held above his head before squeezing happens, Sean tries desperately not to spill on them both. "Yes, they are for you. Um, I wasn't sure if you needed a new tattoo gun either, but I had asked around for what a good kit to pick up and the shop invoiced one they said was good, so that is probably the heavy box. Oh, I should probably call down and see if I can have someone to carry it down for you." Still holding the plate over his head like a worried Roman statue, he glanced over to Micah. "Oh, if it is comic book stuff you need, I totally know a guy. I used to be so into stuff, but then I kinda got obsessed over etching, and then I tried to do claymation, and..." laughing at the absurdity of the situation a moment, he shakes his head. "I sound like a dork.' "Sorrysorrysorry." Jackson is blushing deeply as he skitters back again, eying Sean's plate apologetically. He lifts a hand, wiping his palm against his eye with an audible sniff. "Oh /gosh/, honey-honey, that's -- you're -- /wow/. I don't -- even know what to -- /thank/ you. I've -- been kinda a /ball/ of stress tryin' to stay on top of school an' everything an' -- oh /gosh/. Thank you." He slips his arm around Micah's waist, squeezing tight (and even /more/ uncomfortably hot than before) and then releasing. "Uh-oh, dork. It's okay," he tells Sean brightly, "I'm married to a /huge/ dork I kinda find it attractive." The statement is out of his mouth before he even notices, but his even deeper blush afterwards suggests he has caught himself a moment too late. Micah giggles at the other men's Dance of the Don't Spill Indian Food. "S'okay. I may ask you 'bout your hook-up later. Replacin' comics is /so/ far down the list of priorities right now. Thank you, though. I wouldn't worry much 'bout any kind of dorkiness..." Shaking his head, he just takes another sip from his soda bottle. His free hand scritches at Jax's back, lips curled into a grin at the slip of compliment. "Oh I had also put another copy of the reef print in one box since I had room left. Burnt ocean just seems too post apocalyptic." Sean smiles watching the two, then gestures with his spoon towards the food. "Oh you guys should eat, I am eating and oh wow I'm a bad host." He seems a little perturbed and moves out of the way to make it easier to food acquire. "I'm glad that this helps though. I've never gone through something that would make me just Lose everything like that. I can't even imagine what pictures and things just couldn't be replaced at all. But I guess it gives you time to make new things and all." "My kid's a huge dork, too," Jackson adds cheerfully. "An' a good few'a my best friends -- wow I'm surrounded I /still/ don't know how it ain't rubbed off." He takes a large gulp of orange juice first and /then/ steps forward to prepare himself a -- rather /inordinately/ large plate of food. With a little of /everything/. "An' oh /gosh/ honey-honey it helps like /whoa/ you're kinda an angel? Like, /again/. I mean you already /been/ kinda an angel once an' now it's just --" He shakes his head, stepping back to give Micah room for Fooding, too. "You ain't a bad host you're /pretty much/ a godsend. An' I'm gonna be makin' /so/ many new things once -- well 'tween now an' June I'm /kinda/ jus' focused on tryin' to graduate but after that I'll have so much free time for non-homework projects. An' I'll paint you up somethin' /real/ pretty, 'kay? Though," he admits with a small laugh, "a /lotta/ my stuff is kinda post-apocalyptic so maybe I'll stay away from that if it ain't your taste." "Hon, y'bought us a ton of food an' replaced Jax's /art/ supplies an'...everythin'. Don't think that's bad hostin' if your guests just got too distracted t'pick up food." /Still/ grinning ridiculously wide, Micah follows along to fill his plate with small amounts of a wide variety, as well, pinning naan to the plate with a thumb. "Oh, Jax...maybe y'could do one of the scenes with New York all covered in your ink designs. Was talkin' 'bout that last time we was over an' all." Shaking his head and blushing at the compliment, Sean seems flustered. "It's just spending money really. I mean, Angela makes sure that all that stuff is handled and invested and whatnot. I'm glad that its what you needed, but it's not super special. Which kinda makes me sound like a jerk, fleh. So batting a thousand." Scooting stools over with his feet he puts some closer to the others then hops on one himself. "And that inky New York sounds really nice. I could totally hang it over there, and maybe get some wire leds to go around it and keep the area lit and colorful," he says gesturing with the spoon. "So where is this new place you're going to be staying be? The madhouse?" he asks with a grin. "It's special to us, honey-honey. I mean, even if the /money/ ain't a big thing to you? It's just the /thought/ an' the -- /so/ helpful you got no idea, right when we could -- really really use it. So it ain't a matter'a spendin' so much as -- jus' bein' /real/ considerate when everything's kinda been, well, explodin'." He leans back against the counter, indulging in a brief pleased hum as he starts to dig in to his food. "-- An' oh /gosh/ delicious food on /top/ is jus' the icin' on the cake." He bounces again on his toes at Micah's art suggestion. "Oh. Oh that /would/ be awesome I've wanted to do cityscapes'a that /so/ much jus' ain't yet found the time but -- but doin' one for you /first/ would be perfect. Like a /storm/ of colour." The bouncing doesn't cease at the mention of their new place, a bright-excited note to his tone. "Oh-oh-oh, we -- we got a friend who's kinda a /genius/ architect an' he's /designed/ a whole shiny-new housin' /development/. It's gonna be mad excitin', it's sort of this -- co-housin' project we're all in on together. Like a little bit more community-focused than a normal housin' project. Got a big common house with shared-use facilities but everyone gets their own private space. We're buyin' a home in it. Won't be open till June but /ohgosh/ I'm /so/ excited -- Micah," he says this with a wide-eyed look like he's only just remembering: "Micah we'll have a /whole house/ to decorate. -- S'in the Lower East Side," he adds, for Sean's benefit. "/Right/ on the river." "We're kinda still waitin' on the renter's insurance t'even get /back/ to us on what they're gonna /do/. So, on top of bein' incredibly thoughtful, sure is /timely/ help. Just gettin' clothes an' necessities replaced now's been...interestin'. So, again. Even if y'don't think it is. This is amazin'. Thank you." Micah nods along with his exceedingly sincere tone, finally hopping up on a stool so that he can rest his plate on a knee and tuck in. One can only sit and smell delicious food-spices for so long, after all. "I know, honey. An' y'can paint an' decorate whatever y'want. I'm /hopin'/ the insurance'll be in by then an' we can use it t'put /things/ in the house. On account of...current state of no-things. Might be relyin' on you t'decorate more'n a little, though, sugar. I got /some/ thoughts, but 'bout ninety-five percent of 'em are for Spence's room. Since he keeps askin' for a rocket ship or a space station. I got /plots/." Nodding and just accepting the compliments, Sean settles in to scoop things into his face. "That sounds really cool. So I guess come around June I can visit your new place then. I always wondered how I would make a place look just completely from scratch. Like if I didn't have to worry about my lease, I'd totally be doing murals and probably banging out things for more light." He tilts his head looking at the walls. "Oh you guys can totally have all the cool stuff there, like wall sconces and stained glass windows. Heh, that's probably why I would never be allowed a blank slate room. It would be such an eyesore." "/So/ totally cool," Jackson agrees eagerly. "Have -- you seen the Mendel Clinic? I mean, the actual buildin'. It's /kind of/ incredibly gorgeous. But same architect who done that is doin' all our houses an' -- an' /gosh/ it's excitin' jus' to be able to -- he worked with us all through the designin' to make it /jus'/ how we wanted." There's a happy wriggle to Jackson's posture, still seeming entirely unable to just /settle down/. But he is at least eating while he bounces, working his way through Indian food with a ravenous hunger. "An' I'm /always/ an eyesore so I think anyone who knows me is jus' gonna be unsurprised when my house looks like a colour-splosion." The soft glow around him has brightened a notch at Micah's assurance that he can paint and decorate whatever he wants. "Plots what kinda plots? -- We could /build/ furniture," he adds happily. "I helped Flicker do a -- convertible crib-thing for Mel's shower he's mad skilled with his hands and /you're/ mad skilled with yours an' B is too /an'/ Hive an' I think 'tween the lot of us we could jus' /make/ things cheap -- ohgosh. Can I put a stain-glass window in." Sean's idea seems to have delighted him all over again. "There's already gonna be /so/ much light, I swear one whole side of the place is mostly jus' windows. You'll /so/ hafta come visit, we'll have a housewarmin' an' serve /you/ lots of tasty foods the next time." "Y'can definitely visit, sugar, we owe you a dinner...once we got a kitchen an' things t'cook with again." Micah just shakes his head at this between bites of laden naan. Jax somehow has him /grinning/ even while chewing, the enthusiasm endearing and slightly infectious. "Was thinkin' t'do all the walls /an'/ the ceilin' in space theme. Just...stars an' planets an' nebulae an' comets an' all black an' purple an' deep blue with...space ships 'round in it. Glow-in-the-dark paint for things that should be emitin' light. Could do the closet up t'look like the /TARDIS/. Do an awesome time vortex 'round it that'd fade real pretty into the space-paintin'. They make carpets t'look like...moon-surface. An', yeah, I was thinkin' t'make furniture t'look like landers an' probes an' robots an' the like. A desk set up as Mission Control. Kiddo's been through /a lot/ lately. How often d'you get the chance t'give 'em what they ask for when they're askin' for space stations?" Micah interrupts himself for a swig of soda. "Ohgosh, I love stained glass. Might wanna...pick windows all on the /yard/ side t'do, though. Just in case...not the street side." Sean chuckles at their enthusiasm watching the two talk about space ships and light and color. "You certainly have a lucky family that you're able to do all that for. I'm sure that it will turn out lovely." Finishing off about half the food on his plate, he sets it aside on the counter, pulling out another set of small plates to sit next to the pie. "I didn't think you'd want spicy pie so much. Though, that might be pretty interesting tasting." He shakes his head at that though as if it probably wasn't that great an idea no matter how interesting. "And no, I hadn't really seen the new clinic, aside from the stuff in the magazines. That was all super fancy high tech and all right? There had been a few articles on it, but I tend to only look at that stuff as reference materials." "Oh -- oh oh /oh/. Oh /gosh/ that'd be /charmin'/, only we might never be able t'get him /out/ of his closet if we make it the TARDIS," Jackson says with a giggle; for a moment on the wall behind him part of the wall restyles itself into a closet door painted up all TARDIS-like. "But /yes/ oh /gosh/ yes he'd love all that so much. I will paint him the /universe/." Overhead, Sean's ceiling is recolouring, too, swirling dark and then /glittering/ to life with a million twinkling stars. "Yeah, we can put them in -- overlookin' the yard. Or maybe the river? Gosh." His teeth scrape against his lip, attempting habitually to wiggle at one of his missing liprings. "Oh, /I'm/ the lucky one," he adds to Sean. "My family's a /blessin'/. I'm glad to be able to give 'em --" His cheeks flush red again, and he scoops at another mouthful of rice and dal, swallowing quickly. "I make /wicked/-good spicy-chocolate desserts. But curry-pecan pie might be a little off even for my tastes. An' oh gosh yeah the Clinic is /pretty/ fancy. I think it was kinda a challenge, he wanted to make it gorgeous /an'/ strong enough to withstand -- well, kinda predicting /some/ turbulence down there. So, attractive /an'/ bombproof. Don't think it was easy." “Both? Can always put in more stained glass over time as inspiration strikes you. Just...really strong shatterproof glass on the street side.” Micah is still smiling and chuckling despite the implications of his last comment. “We /have/ been really lucky, in the long run. An' I think folks we know got some kinda /specialty/ in the strong kinda beautiful. Couldn't think of nobody better'n Hive t'build the Clinic /or/ our homes.” Micah's teeth find his lip, chewing at it thoughtfully as he side-eyes the pie. “Jax /does/ make the best spicy chocolate, he's undersellin' it. An' now I /wanna/ try curry pie.” "Maybe he can make curry pie separate with actual intended ingredients instead of accidental ingredients," Sean nods with a tilt of his head. "I can't wait to see the place. I didn't include wall paint in the stuff, but well I'm sure you can get special ones mixed up for the right colors." Shrugging, he cuts into the pie and sets out a slice on each of the little plates, and settles in for a night of food and conversation with his friends.