ArchivedLogs:Good News
| Good News | |
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| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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17 February, 2013 Hive comes to deliver Iolaus an update. And some pain. |
| Location
<NYC> Iolaus's Apartment - East Harlem | |
Down a hallway and overlooking a open air market in El Barrio, Iolaus' apartment is not particularly a large one. It is three rooms - the main room shaped like an L with kitchen at one end, a small bedroom large enough for a full bed and a dresser, and a bathroom barely large enough to fit the bath inside it. The walls are a light yellow in the main room, with a large bookcase sitting against one wall and occupying much of the space, stuffed with books as it is. Two couches sit across from it, pressed up against the corner of the L shaped room. The kitchen is separated only by the transition from wood floor to grey tile and is sparsely filled with food and cookware both, and the bathroom is equally sparse of accouterments. In fact, were it not for the full bookcase and the clothing hanging in the closet, it would look almost as if the occupant had moved out and left some few things behind in a hurry. Buzzzzzz buzz. That's Iolaus's buzzer. If Iolaus looks at the VIEWSCREENmajig, outside Hive is looking like his scruffy self. Battered old jacket. Faded jeans. A ratty backpack slung over his shoulder. BUZZ. Iolaus stops, one spoon above the teapot. He dumps the tea into the pot and places the spoon beside it. Walking over to the viewscreen, Iolaus buzzes Hive in. << Hello, Hive. I was just making some tea. Would you like some? >> Even as he asks, he's putting the extra leaves necessary to make it. Worst comes to worst, he gets /even more/ tea. Hive doesn't give Iolaus an answer. He tromps up the several flights of stairs, eventually thudding his fist against Iolaus's door. He looks -- worn. Tan skin paler than usual. Dark bags under his eyes. Iolaus pours hot water over the tea leaves and sets a timer, then goes to answer the door. He is midway across the room when the pounding starts, and, after checking through the peep hole, he opens the door. "Hello, Hive. You look like shit. Come in." he says, opening the door wider for the other man. "What happened?" he asks, a note of concern in his voice. "Nothing. Tea would be great," Hive finally answers, coming in and looking around only for a moment. He beelines to the nearest couch, dropping down heavily to sit on it and sling his backpack off to the floor. "Got news." "Good news, I hope?" Iolaus asks, as he closes the door behind the telepath and applies the several locks now sprouting from the edge of the door. "If it's bad news, wait until we have tea." He heads back into the kitchen to pull out two iron teacups, insides coated in ceramic. "How do you take your tea?" he asks. "Uh -- I dunno. Tealike. However tea comes." Hive frowns suspiciously at the teacups, and then shrugs. "Hot. Liquidy." He's opening his laptop, booting it up. His fingers rattle against the keys, impatiently waiting till he can type his password in. "Yeah. Good news." There's a brief mental /pressure/ against Iolaus's mind, but it is soon to withdraw. Hive is restless where he sits, one leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He watches Iolaus. He watches the window. "What is it?" Iolaus asks, turning to look at Hive. The microwave beeps, and Iolaus silences it with a push of a button, leaning over the teapot. He carefully extracts the mesh stainless steel basket, holding it over the teapot for several moments to let it drain before he tosses the leaves away in the trash and rinses it out. "What's your news?" he asks, pouring the tea from the pot into the two teacups and carrying them both over to Hive. He proffers one of them to the telepath, with a smile. Hive takes the cup, quickly taking a gulp and, judging by his immediate gasp and wince, regretting this hasty decision. He puts the cup down on the table, still sucking in air in quick short bursts. He types in his password quickly, and opens up the -- finished, now -- blueprints for the clinic. He turns the screen towards Iolaus. "Here. Check it." Iolaus chuckles, blowing over the surface of his tea. << It's fresh from the teapot. Of course it's hot. >> Iolaus says, a bemused expression on his face. "Oh? Wow, that's awesome!" the doctor says, sitting down next to Hive and looking over the screen. << Great. Now we can hurry up and wait until the lawyers finally manage to get their job done. >> "That's awesome, Hive!" he says, in a much perkier tone than his mind-voice. "This is an incredible piece of work. I knew you could do it." he says, grinning and punching Hive lightly in the arm. Hive's smile is tight, and serves to accentuate rather than diminish the drawn and tired expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, you can check it again but it's. Everything you asked for. Plus a little bit of, uh, I talked to Jax's school to see what kinds of things /they/ used in their medical facilities, since they're used to --" He shrugs. "You should be hearing from your lawyers on Monday. Permits are all cleared. We can break ground, shit, whenever the contractors are ready." Iolaus' eyes widen, fixing on Hive's face. "/What/!?" he says, pole-axed. "That's... that's impossible. The lawyers were saying... a month, minimum, before they could actually get anywhere with it." He gives Hive a somewhat suspicious look. << I don't think I want to know. >> "That's fantastic news, Hive. I'll put you in touch with the construction firm so you can get hooked in with the general contractor. Amazing, amazing work, Hive." he says, face lit up with pleasure and looking for all the world like a little kid on Christmas morning. "But... Tuesday. For now, I think, you need your rest. Tuesday, we'll set you up with the contractors and go out to celebrate. I'll make all the arrangements." << I'll have to talk to Melinda about a bonus, too. I'm sure we can scrape something up... I think our fundraising has been enough. I can warn Katie about it, and she can use this as a new fundraising pitch... >> his mind begins to ramble internally, thinking over all of the next steps. "It's possible," Hive says, and something grim and flat in his tone only seems to affirm Iolaus's don't-want-to-know. There's another /push/, a mental pressure at Iolaus's mind that squeezes in and then pulls away sharply. The telepath slumps back heavily against the couch, fingers lifting to rake along the sides of his head in an absent habitual arc. "Tuesday," he agrees. "This'll be big. For you. You ready for it? You're going to take a lot of heat." "Jane has been preparing for it for... months. We're hiring another bodyguard or two, and I'll probably go under 24-hour guard for a few weeks." Iolaus says, shrugging his shoulders. He blinks a moment, running a hand through his hair. << That's... odd. >> He shrugs again, smiling faintly. "And... you know. My affairs are in order and all that, just in case." "Just in case." Hive's lips press together, thin, his eyes narrowing on Iolaus. There's another throb of pressure, another withdrawing. "Shit, man," he says, gruffly. He scruffs his fingers through his hair again, slower this time; at this speed the path they trace is more visible, a thick roping of scar curling against his skull and down around his ear. "Just in case. What does that even --" He blows out a heavy breath, smoothing his hair back into place. "I hope your bodyguards know their shit." "I knew what I was getting into." Iolaus says, softly. "Political figures have been killed for less than what I'm doing, and they're better protected." He stands up, shrugging again, this time stepping into the bathroom. He comes back with a prescription bottle. "Do you have any allergies? Are you on any medication?" he asks. "Yeah, but that's terrifying as shit," Hive says. "I mean, fuck." He almost sounds angry about this, in his gruff-brusque tone. Weirdly, it also almost sounds angry when he says: "Shit, but the world could use more people like you. What?" This last is startled. He is sluggish to look up, frowning at the bottle. "No?" Another pulse of pressure. Another hard scrub of fingers against his skull. He stands abruptly, /pacing/ to the window, and then away from it. "Sorry, I should get out of your hair. I just wanted to show you --" He waves a hand jerkily towards the computer. "And tell you that we're golden." "Yeah, some nights, I wake up and wonder what the hell I've been doing." Iolaus says, with a hard sort of laugh. "Tylenol with codeine. I assume you have a headache?" he asks, rattling the container once in his hands. "That's what it looks like." << Or are you losing control of your powers? I can feel you at the edges of my mind. >> "I always have a headache," Hive says with a snort. "I'm sorry about the -- " He waves fingers between both of their heads. "Lately I've just --" He shrugs, snorts again, his smile wry. "Shit, man, I didn't come here for you to doctor me. You should be celebrating. Enjoy your last couple days of nobody shooting at you when you leave the house." Iolaus grins and shakes his head. "You work for me. Your health and well-being are always on my top list of priorities. Celebration is way down there at, like... number eighty." he laughs, tapping out one of the pills into his hand. "Would you like it? It may help take the edge off of the pain." << Or is there anything else I can do to help? >> The offer of help draws another squeeze of pressure. Harder. More insistent. "Fuuuck," Hive whispers, slumping back against the wall and curling his fingers through his hair. "You should still go out. Relax for once. Enjoy the rest of your weekend." His palms are both pressing to his eyes, his muscles clenched tight. "What do you look for in a bodyguard?" << Why don't you want help? >> Iolaus asks, even though there is a faint wince from the mental pressure. "I'm not saying I won't. I hope to get through all the things that will allow me to relax. But there are other things, first." He pauses at the question, surprised. "I don't. I mean, if they are vetted by my head of security, that's good enough for me. What does she look for?" He shrugs, non-committal. "People with military or tactical backgrounds. People who won't crack under pressure, and that she can trust absolutely. And that's not an easy trust to gain. People with mutations that would be useful in combat, or keeping combat from ever happening." << People who are scary as shit and willing to put up with her. >> "Drugs scare me," Hive answers simply. "S'it pay decent?" He drops his hands from his eyes, turning back to the window. Looking down at the people passing in the street stories below. He swallows. Iolaus puts the pill back its container and puts it down on the counter. "It pays hazard wages, but not as much as you could make as an architect, probably." he says, guessing at why this line of questioning is occurring. << It's no simple headache. >> "But it pays. Probably around... sixty base, up to eighty, ninety with a lot of seniority." "Yeah, shit, if anyone else ever wants to /hire/ me as an architect. again. I was thinking about Jax, though," Hive answers, still very fixated out the window. "He's a scary motherfucker, underneath all that glitter. And shit, but that boy could use some decent -- he's all stressed all the time. Kids to feed." Hive's shoulders have tensed up hard, and he is focused on one couple in particular, leaning in close to each other across the street as they exchange words. << Nothing's simple. >> The answer comes harder than even Hive's usual, sharp and raw in a searing burst of mental energy. "Well, our benefit packages are quite good... or they will be, when we finish organizing them. Medical, dental, good wages... life insurance." << Probably with some of the highest premiums in the industry. >> "But it's a full-time job as shifts for normal workers, but they're a year off from hiring, maybe less. When construction gets closer to completion. Before then, the only person who needs to get guarded is me, and we're only hiring bodyguards. If you think he's suitable, he should talk to Jane." Iolaus' smile is wry. "I know the two of them have met." "Didn't go well?" Hive's eyebrows raise. He tears himself away from the window abruptly, heading over to his computer. He shuts the machine down, quickly. "Hey, look, I'll send you the finished plans, okay? Let me know if there's any last things you need before I talk to the contractors." His movements are quick and jittery, his eyes deliberately not focusing on Iolaus. "Well... they had a disagreement about trust." Iolaus says, with a thin smile. "Yeah, sure, Hive." he says, a note of sadness in his voice. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you, alright?" he asks, giving the other man a sympathetic look. << Whatever it is. >> "Trust? Jax?" Hive raises his eyebrows, closing the computer. He glances up at Iolaus's unspoken words, and when his eyes meet the other man's there's another /crush/ of pressure. They seem to be getting stronger. "Nothing you'd want to do," he says, wryly. "Plus your bodyguard might kill me." "Are you going to hurt me?" Iolaus says, with a twisted half-smile on his lips. "Jane won't hurt you if I give you permission. You need to... what. Link with me, somehow? That will help you?" he asks, softly, taking a seat down next to the other man, eyes sweeping back and forth between Hive's. "Do it." Hive sinks back against the couch, pressing his palms once more to his eyes. "I don't know. I don't -- I try not to do it a lot. It's like fucking drugs, you know. Start doing it and it's hard not to just keep going. But I --" He stops, hands dropping to his lap. "It's not that that's the problem. I think it just gets worse with. Uh. Stress. Not sleeping. And I have this --" For a moment his jaw tightens. "Thing. In my brain. Makes everything sort of glitchy sometimes." "Will you put me at risk?" Iolaus says, sweeping the other man's face. "Believe me, I know what withdrawal is like, and I don't want to tempt you if that's really the problem." He says, softly, a wince visible in his eyes but not his expression. "But... if it's an actual need, not just a jonsing need... if it won't hurt me - longer than you're doing it, I mean - you have my permission." "It won't hurt you," Hive says. "I mean, it'll hurt you. It kinda hurts like a motherfucker. But it won't hurt you past -- past." He shrugs. "It's not really pleasant," he hedges carefully, to the reinforcing tune of another uncomfortable pulse of energy. "I mean, even past the hurting. It's intrusive. I don't normally listen to people any deeper than what I can't help overhearing. This is like. Everything. All of you." His grumble of, "but this fucking thing won't shut /up/," is softer, and his fingers scrunch into his hair. "I think I just need to sleep," he mutters, hands pressing to his temples hard, like they alone might contain the energy throbbing within. "I can't promise that my mind is a particularly pleasant place to be either." A pause. "If sleep will help, come, and I'll put you to bed. If... whatever with me will help, then do that. If there is someone that can help who isn't here, let me know and I will get them." Iolaus says, voice soft but level, calm and even. "Let me know what I can do to help, Hive." he says. Hive leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, now, his fingers raked through his hair and palms cradling his forehead. Whatever he mutters next is not in English. It sounds apologetic, though, in tone at least. The next crush of feeling against Iolaus's mind doesn't let up. It presses in, hard and sharp and bearing down tight as a vice. One with teeth, sinking in to /grip/, to dig, to /shove/ sharp mental fingers in like it is trying to tear Iolaus open. Hive's teeth grit hard. Iolaus lets out a pained cry and claps his hands to the side of his head, as if trying to ward off whatever intrusion is inflicting itself on him. Not that it helps at all, of course. << God, fuck, that hurts. Always gotta be the nice guy. Fuck. >> he winces, letting out a small whimpering sound as Hive tramples through his mind. There is a further crushing-squeezing-tearing pressure, bearing down harder and harder until, with a quiet sharp breath exhaled from Hive, it lets up. Not all the way. There's still /something/, uncomfortably tight in its grip on Iolaus's mind, but it's not the agony of before. It's just /there/, heavy and constricting. Like trying to think underwater. There's also a whole host of feelings jumbled in that are distinctly Not Iolaus's, a bone-deep exhaustion, an undercurrent of anger beneath it. A chaotic mix of worries and idle thoughts. Paying all the back rent he owes Flicker. Whether getting the clinic open is worth screwing over the people he had to screw over. Whether he and Flicker and Jax and everyone else are going to die in this upcoming raid. Whether this fucking brainchip is going to kill him first. One by one these thoughts are /sequestered/ away, walls slowly building up to isolate Hive's thoughts from Iolaus's, but there's a period in between where it's hard to /tell/ where one mind ends and the other begins. In the jumble is Iolaus' own mix of thoughts. The clinic on its way to opening, finally. Worries about the fundraising. Worries about the security. Worrying about getting shot. Dreams about getting shot. Lots about getting shot, actually. A flicker of a scene from a previous night - Iolaus, standing in front of a circle of chairs with other people, saying, 'Hello, my name is Richard, and I'm an addict.' Finally having found the perfect place to take Lucien on his second date, if he can afford it. Thinking about how he really shouldn't have offered to put Hive in his bed because it would really be a pity if the first hot guy he had in his own bed in a couple years was a sick, straight man. Hive is silent a long while, the tension ebbing out of his posture, though his head stays cradled in his hands. The pressure doesn't let up, tight and heavy. Slowly, at length, Hive's lips curl into a smile. It's thin. << I'm not sick, >> slices into Iolaus's mind, though it's somewhat less stabby than Hive's usual. Hive opens his eyes to slant a sidelong look at Iolaus; as he does so, there's a sudden /tug/ that /forces/ Iolaus's head to turn away from where he's holding it, /forces/ him to make eye contact. It lets up a moment later, as Hive looks away, facing forward once again. << It's complicated. You know Lucien? >> Iolaus' hands drop down to his side, and a blush burns at his cheeks. << Fuck, right. Telepathy. Well, it can hardly be considered unprofessional for me to flirt when you're reaching into my head to pull the thoughts from there. I don't think I can /not/ think the thoughts. >> There is a brief image of Iolaus, kneeling in front of Hive, tongue about to li-- << Fuck, fuck, elephants, unicorns, god damn it. >> His cheeks burn redder. There is a brief tinge of hope and sadness and a very complicated set of emotions all tangled up when Lucien is mentioned. << Yes. Not as well as I would like to. >> << Hey, I finished your work, >> Hive answers, a flicker of amusement in the words. Or, well, more or less finished, anyway. << So it's not about professional anymore, right? >> The image draws his smile a little wider, though it's still pretty wry. He drops his hands, sinking back on the couch, his eyes closing as he resettles himself more comfortably. << Ah. He seems complicated, too. >> << You still work for me. >> Iolaus says. His eyes track the other man's repositioning, and he swallows, once, hard. The image comes back, worse than before, thanks to the spreading of Hive's legs. Another swallow, and another desperate reach for any thought other than that. << He's very complicated. I wouldn't recommend doing this with him if you cared for your sanity. >> he says, wrenching his gaze up to Hive's face. << Oh, I lost my sanity a long time ago. >> The tips of Hive's ears darken, and he repositions himself again, hands resting on his knees as they come together. << Hard to keep when you're drowning in everyone else's thoughts all day. The world is not fucking sane. >> Hive exhales heavily, and all at once the pressure lifts from Iolaus's mind, pain and discomfort relieved even as Hive grimaces deeper. "Sorry," he mutters, aloud. "Sometimes it just won't shut up." Iolaus blushes as well and gives Hive a brief wink. "Did it help?" he asks, tilting his head to one side. "That's a hell of a thing you've got there." He shakes his head, chuckling. "That felt /weird/. I mean... painful, at the beginning, but... weird, afterwards." he laughs once more, looking away to the side and then back to Hive. << Too bad. Looked better with the knees open. >> he stands up, walking back to the kitchen to pour himself more tea. "S'better, for now. I -- thanks." Hive certainly seems more at ease. His fidgeting has let up, his restless twitching. He's not squeezing at his head. "Yeah. It feels weird. It, uh. You should feel it when -- no. Ok. No you shouldn't. Thanks." The last comment draws a crooked hook of a grin from him. He scrubs his fingers against the side of his head again. "Jesus. Probably still should sleep, though." He's leaning forward, to slip his laptop into his backpack. "S'been a -- Couple days. Shit." Iolaus gestures to the bedroom behind him. "I'm not using it right now. Feel free to crash here for a couple of hours. I'll probably not be climbing in until 3, 4 this morning. Plenty of time for you to get some rest." the doctor says, smiling. He takes another sip of his tea. "I'd rather that then you trying to take the subway home if you're really that tired." "Just been a hell of a week." Hive is pulling out his phone to send off a text. "Um --" He eyes Iolaus a /long/ moment, thoughtful. "You sure? I mean, I could -- hrngh." His hand passes against his eyes. "I hope you're going to be up late because you're busy having fun. I mean, these could be your last days on earth, remember."
Iolaus smirks and shakes his head, once. "Got some work to take care of before I get assassinated." he jokes, with a wink. "My fun is going to be next weekend, if everything works out." He gives a little bit of a shrug and shakes his head. "Go ahead, Hive. Get some rest." he offers, again. "Mngh." Hive's phone is buzzing. He grimaces at it as he stands. "Thanks, man." He gets up, squeezing Iolaus's shoulder once as he makes his way into the bedroom. "No problem, Hive." Iolaus says, glancing once at his profile as the other man steps past him. << Thank god he's off the couch, or I just might have been on my knees. >> He shakes his head, picking up his teacup and stepping back over to sit down on the couch. << Be more comfortable in bed anyway, dude. >> This is rasped across Iolaus's mind. Possibly with an undertone of laughter. But the bedroom door /closes/ after this. Another image flashes through Iolaus' mind - look, a bed, and tongue, and... - and he winces. << Right, sorry. Telepath, even if you're not telepathing. Sorry... >> the doctor trails off, blushing and taking another long, long sip of tea. << Sorry. >> << Nothing you gotta apologize for, man. I'm in /your/ house. ... In your bed. >> There's a silence. Faint telephone buzzing from behind the door. << Don't worry about it. Sorry I'm eavesdropping. >> << Yes, I know you're in my bed. The problem is I'm /also/ not in the bed. >> Iolaus replies, his mind-voice teasing. << No worries. Occupational hazard for you, I'm sure. I'm sure I'll be focused on immensely boring shit in a few minutes anyway. That should put you right to sleep. >> he says, picking up the sheaf of regulations and straightening them out. << Delightful. >> is the last thing that comes through from Hive. Maybe he's gone to sleep.
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