ArchivedLogs:It's So Defensible

It's So Defensible
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Micah, Jax
In Absentia	14 June 2014 Nighttime talks in the tree house.
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Treehaus - Lower East Side
A spiral of sturdy slatted wooden stairs winds up the trunk of an enormous oak, leading the way up to this treehouse positioned between a pair of trees at one side of the Commons yard, abutting the river. It's clear enough upon ascending that this is no ordinary treehouse, built sturdy-strong and with a polished finish that would rival most /regular/ residences. Spanning the distance between the pair of oaks, the treehouse is a long one-story building, equipped with both plumbing and electricity. The stairs lead up onto a wraparound balcony that projects out at one side to overlook the East River rushing by below. The doorway inside leads to a furnished sitting room, long low futon-couches on the pale wood floors, walls painted in leafy shades of green, exposed-beam ceilings that seem to have worked some of the actual branches of the tree into the curvature of the roof. The front room is bright and airy, large windows looking out on the Commons grounds and the river outside. Recessed lanterns in the wall give the room a warm glow, come nighttimes, and in the center of the room amid a stone-tiled patch of flooring there is a squat glass-encased gas fireplace providing warmth in winter. Off to one side of the room there is an elevated loft up nearer the ceiling, accessible by ladder and furnished with pillows and plush futon mattress and lots of blankets. The adjoining room is decorated in watery river-blues instead of leaf-greens; in here there's a small kitchenette to one side with sink and stove and toaster oven and counter space, cabinets on the walls. A long dining table in this room seats eight; by the windows, plenty of cushioning sits in the wide window-seats. Off in the very back, a tiny half-bathroom holds a sink and toilet. No stove in here; the wintertime tends to find this room much chillier, but there's generally plenty of warm blankets lying around the house. Dinnertime has come and long since gone, the day's sunny warmth fading into a pleasantly cool night. Around the Commons these days there are more and more lights to be found, people starting to settle into actual routines in their new homes. The treehouse, tonight, is dark, though, its lights unlit. Dark, but not /empty/ -- its current sole occupant just doesn't have much need of its lights. Dusk is dressed much as ever. Khaki cargo shorts slung low on his hips and nothing else (save the boxy monitor strapped around his ankle.) He is, at the moment, shoving a brand-new futon mattress up the ladder into the small loft -- a task he's actually /straining/ at, tonight, though the mattress can't be particularly heavy. There's a pile of pillows and blankets beside him, presumably destined for the same place. The lack of lights in the treehouse gives the false impression of it being unoccupied. After a day of moving (admittedly, not much moving), supply shopping, and furniture building with breaks only for meals and (most recently) showers, Micah is dragging Jax /away/ from the house and all of the tasks that each of its rooms seem to be /asking/ to have completed. As is typical for this time of night, there is tea, lavender mint in a thermos tucked under one arm. "I'm grateful for the stairs. Ladders ain't never been my most favourite of things," he observes as they climb the spiral staircase up the tree. The sound of shuffling and shoving mattress causes him to pause. "Oh. I think somebody's in there, actually. Just...in the dark. Maybe we should find somewhere else t'hang out 'til bedtime." Jax's post-shower change has resulted in a slim-fitted pair of capris, black and stitched with dragonflies, a very strappy-flowy yellow tank, and no shoes. He brings his own lights with him, tiny faery-winged creatures trailing shimmery glow behind them as they flit around above his and Micah's heads. "Imagine possibly Hive thunk'a that -- maybe. I don't know he was pretty thoughty with a lotta this." He trails off, head tilting slightly as he listens to the shuffling sounds from above. He pauses behind Micah on the stairs, resting a hand against the tree trunk. "Oh -- oh. Maybe? Maybe in the sunroom I like it there even when it /ain't/ sunny. Though whoever it is mebbe won't /mind/ the -- I mean, just as of yet I don't think there's nobody livin' here we ain't friends with -- /oh/." His eye widens, a sudden blush flooding his cheeks as he listens more to the sounds of exertion above. "Unless you meaned -- oh gosh right in the -- dark -- maybe we shouldn't interrupt." Dusk stops with his mattress-shoving, exhaling a heavy grunt at the sounds of voices from outside. There's a heavy /whumph/ as the mattress slips back down the ladder and to the floor, a brief sharp hiss. "Nobody's /fucking/ in here," he finally answers the voices outside with a hint of amusement. "Come on in I could use a hand." "Hey, it's /dark/ an' there's gruntin'. Pardon the logical assumptions bein' made," Micah calls back with equal amusement. "Y'mind if we turn a light on?" He is already in /pajamas/ since showering, though with socks and sneakers added to his feet, consisting of an oversized black T-shirt and blue pajama pants with tiny TARDISes tumbling through space on them. His auburn hair is still spiky-damp. "What /are/ you up to, then?" "Huh? /You're/ in there," Jax answers Dusk, puzzled, before his blush deepens still further. "/Oh/ wait no that was -- that was a /verb/." "Dirty fucking mind you got." There's a pause, and then a light switches on inside the treehouse. The door opens soon after, a lopsided grin on Dusk's face. "/That/ time it wasn't a verb it was emphasis. And you know I think, like, a /quarter/ of the people in this complex right now can see in the dark or echolocate or both so --" He pauses, momentarily. "... then again out of that subset half the people are like. Me or Shane or Ryan so I guess, yeah, fucking's a pretty safe assumption." His brows rumple as he steps back from the door to let the others in. "... or at least it used to be, for me. Lately --" He grimaces faintly, and twitches a wing back towards the loft. "I was trying to get this shit in place." "Yeah, exactly. /Pretty/ safe assumption 'round here," Micah counters with a chuckle as he takes in the scene. "Okay, I can help push from down here, an' at least one of you get up top t'pull. This shouldn't be too bad." His hand brushes lightly up against the nearer of Dusk's wings. "Y'mind us hangin' 'round once it's up? I mean...we wanna help but don't want you t'feel like we're constantly crowdin' you, neither." "I'll get up, you don't gotta squeeze your wings in up there." Jax closes the door again behind them, also running his fingertips against the /back/ of Dusk's wing in passing as he heads to the ladder. He hefts a corner of the futon testingly before climbing up into the loft, frowning once he's situated up high. "-- But, sweetie, I really think you gotta eat somethin'. I've seed you lift a /car/ when you're proper fed an' now you're strugglin' with a futon? You don't want t'make yourself sick, honey-honey." Dusk moves back over to the mattress, a blush darkening his cheeks at Jax's observation. "Just -- tired," he answers with an awkward twitch of wings. "You're -- probably right, though." He picks up the front end of the mattress with a small grimace, folding it over on itself and shifting it to position it against the ladder. "And I don't mind. Spend most of the day just holed up in my room, it's -- kind of nice to have you guys. You know. Around." Micah sets the thermos down on the floor nearby and helps clear the futon out of the way for Jax to scurry up the ladder, moving in to push the mattress up from below while his husband pulls. “Fatigue /is/ a side effect of anaemia. An' starvation, both.” Shove, shove, he presses the mattress up higher until it's over his head. “Good. 'Cause we like havin' you 'round, too. I brought tea. S'lavender mint.” He nods at the thermos. Jax reaches down to grab the end of the mattress, scooting back with a small grunt of his own to drag it up the ladder. "You gettin' back into the swing of work in there, 'least? Hope if you're bein' all hermity you're at least like /productive/-hermity." He rocks back against the far wall, giving one last big heave-tug once the mattress is over Micah's head to pull it into place. "You want to chuck up those pillows and all, too? Can get everything tidy up here. -- I'd /say/ you should come by our place during the day if you want to stop the being-holed-up but actually I'm going back to work Monday /anyway/ so it'll be just as quiet as yours." His teeth press against his lip ring for a quick moment before he adds, "... though I'm going to. Start scheduling trainings for the team again, um. What's -- going on with you, uh. Trial-wise?" The pillows and bedding, at least, Dusk scoops up without trouble, reaching up to hand the pile up to Jax. "Of course it is." His lips twitch slightly when Micah mentions the contents of the thermos, though it's fond rather than mocking. "Been getting a lot done, yeah. That much is good, at least. Kind of -- miss working, when I'm not. Glad you're feeling good enough to --" He frowns at the talk of trainings and his trial. "I'm not. Sure how great it's looking, really. I don't know. It's kind of. Kind of mostly just my word against his about who -- /instigated/ the whole thing and. Well, come on. You put me up against some clean-cut respectable human, whose word is anyone going to take?" One last push with his fingertips help send the mattress up the rest of the way. "Y'got it up there?" Micah backs up a step, neck craned back to observe the loft. The request for pillows answers his question handily enough. "Hittin' the next facility soon, y'think?" he asks at the mention of training, literally tossing the pillows up with gentle side-armed throws. He aims them /not/ at Jax, to skid in along the floor. "What's the lawyer been sayin'? Any...strategy or anythin'? Can't guess we'd be able t'much hope for an /actual/ jury of your peers." "Yeah. Think so. Pennsylvania, anyway, we have more than enough to move on safely -- uh. As safe as we ever do. And honestly waiting is making me feel sick as -- if it weren't for that drug that hit us we'd have gone already. Just sitting around while Hive -- puts off -- we just need to get this over with." Jax situates the mattress and catches the pillows that are tossed up, arranging them neatly against the wall and taking the blankets from Dusk to stack them in one corner. He climbs back down the ladder once everything is in place, fingers trailing against Micah's side as he moves past to settle down kneeling on the floor by one of the futons down /here/. "-- What if --" Though this trails off into a sharp exhale nearly as soon as Jax has started the thought. Hs teeth wiggle again at a lip ring, fingers fidgeting twitchily with the hem of his tank. "It's just, it's /not/ just your word against his, right? I mean, there's a /million/ telepaths out there who could. You know. Attest to what the both of you know happened." "Yeah. Yeah. We /really/ need -- I mean, I've been back to feeding /him/ most days but even with that I don't know how much longer he can -- getting this all done with will just be good." Dusk moves over when Jax does, crossing away from the loft to climb up onto the futon, settling on the mattress in a crouch. It takes him a moment to get situated, wings shifting uncomfortably at his back. "Well, at least with the video from B's dragonfly --" he is starting; he breaks off too, though, eyes widening faintly at Jax's thought. "I -- is that even allowed? I don't know if I've -- /heard/ of telepaths giving -- but there's no law /against/ it, is there?" Micah frowns at that answer, simply nodding resolutely in reply. He collects his thermos and follows the others over to the futon, sitting behind Jax on it. After taking a sip of tea, he holds out to offer to Jax. "I dunno. I mean, first of all y'gotta trust the telepath t'tell the truth, too. Or what, get a second one t'back 'im up? Then what if /that/ one ain't tellin' the truth? S'telepaths all the way down." His head shakes, a little boggled at the idea. "An' then there's a question of consentin' t'telepaths readin' for legal purposes. An' whether or not the /government/ can use 'em, or only the accused. An' somebody's gonna call bias of the teeps toward other people with special abilities." He hums softly in thought. "S'pose it don't hurt t'ask the lawyer, though, right?" "Yeah, but Dusk would consent, I'd imagine. And you /already/ have to trust -- /any/ witness in a case to tell the truth, how's a telepath any different? I mean, in terms of their likelihood of bein' honest?" Jax frowns, settling back against Micah's knees and reaching up for the thermos. "People got a /huge/ bias against psi-folk admittedly so that'd be a hurdle. But a telepath ain't no more or less likely to lie on the stand than any other witness is. 'course, there'd be a question of trustin' in the telepath's /competence/ or even ability but." Jax takes a small sip of tea, then a larger one. His arm curls around behind Micah's legs, and he passes the thermos back. "But I don't know. I feel like this kinda thing needs to be -- I don't know." Now he sounds a little more glum. "There's just so much potential for all the things we /could/ be helpful at if people'd let us." Dusk's lips twitch, faintly amused despite the situation. "Needs to be what, regulated? Start our own Psi Corps? Get people properly trained and vetted. Pretty good idea, actually, if not for the deep paranoid loathing people have for psis. Could ask, though. I'll take any fucking break I could get." "Well, s'just that /witnesses/ usually got somethin' t'do with the case. As opposed t'just pullin' in a telepath from completely outside of it t'do telepath things. Imagine y'could go /find/ somebody t'say whatever y'want. An' yeah, witnesses can be wrong or lie, too, but you're kinda just...stuck with the folks as was there an' saw things, at least. Harder t'fish for what y'want that way." Micah's nose crinkles at the Psi Corps talk. "Gah, no. The regulation parts always go creepy. At least in fiction. I can't imagine it /not/ eventually goin' creepy. I dunno. Just seems like a real deep rabbit hole t'jump in on the /grand scheme/. But, yeah. For this one case can't hurt t'ask." "Well, yeah, but courts have /expert/ witnesses all the time too who /weren't/ there or nothin', people jus' get to call in folks who got some way to analyse the evidence an' tell what they done found. S'kinda the same as here. -- an' with their expert witnesses both sides sure as anything fish for what they want, but that wouldn't be no more or less true here." Jax just looks /puzzled/ at the Psi Corps reference, brows creasing faintly. "Our own what? I guess, yeah. I mean, if there /was/ some way folks could get -- /verified/ as bein' able to do what they claim they do? That'd be --" He glances at Micah uncertainly with the talk of being creepy, and then just drops his head back against his husband's knees again. "They got a skill an' they could use it. Why's that creepy?" "Um, cuz the skill's reading people's fucking minds? S'creepy as fuck having like. Government-approved thought monitoring. I mean, ideally it'd only be consensual and all right? But, /perfect/ world vs. /our/ world I can't imagine that wouldn't end with fucking /warrants/ to dig into people's thoughts and all kinds of shit." Dusk's wings shiver against his back. "... jesus. Maybe I'd actually rather go to jail than open up /that/ fucking can of worms. Still --" He weighs his hands against each other, tipping one up higher. "/Perfect/ world -- it'd just be one more option on the table." "The expert witnesses still hafta come out an' say they're /guessin'/, though. Educated an' informed guessin' /maybe/. But they're givin' some kinda analysis. Not just steppin' up an' sayin', 'Nope, here's what happened, brains told me so.'" Micah shrugs, popping the lid on the Thermos to drink from it again. This time he holds it out to Dusk instead. "It's not even the telepathy part that's creepy, it's the...regulation part. What they'd wanna do with or /to/ the telepaths. An'...yeah, the government bein' able t'read your mind's a little creepy, too. S'one thing when it's a person. S'another entirely when it's an /entity/." Jax exhales heavily, curling his arm tighter around Micah's leg. "/To/ the -- oh." For a moment a ripple of darkness shivers around him, his eye closing as it fades back away. "Yeah. OK. Yeah. That's, um. That's -- that'd probably get really creepy. I don't -- want the government in my head. Or in /Hive's/. Oh, gosh, with those chips -- I mean, they've already kind of been /trying/ --" He scowls down at the floor, expression evening out as he just presses his cheek up against Micah's knee. "... can't say I'm real keen on you bein' in jail neither, though." A thin smile pulls at the side of Dusk's mouth. "Well." His wings lift in a small shrug, and he accepts the thermos with a nod. Uncapping it, he pulls a small sip, returning it to Micah. His weight shifts to the side, a slow sag of lean against the other man's side; his nearer wing curls out to snake itself behind Micah's back as he nestles up against the other man. "Could always try praying." Micah nods as the dark shiver reveals that Jax has hit the same page as the rest of them. “It'd be nice if we could trust 'em /not/ t'abuse any part of the process, but... It'd be foolish with the experience /any/ of us've had t'assume they wouldn't.” Setting the thermos down to free up his hands, he uses one to stroke over Jax's head and the other to pet at Dusk's wing. “That couldn't hurt, neither, but... I wouldn't /mind/ if y'pushed your lawyer t'come up with a stellar defense plan, /too/.” Jax relaxes at the petting, his next exhalation a softer happier sigh. "Honey-honey, don't a day go by that I don't pray for all of you. But I don't think Jesus is walkin' into the courtoom to testify t'your good character so your lawyer's --" He tips his hand up towards Micah. "Gonna hafta pitch in, too." His hand drops back against his knees, head tilting back with a small smile to nuzzle up against Micah's hand. "Yeeeah, I'm pretty sure if he did come down to testify they'd just assume he was a mutant and biased towards us freaks anyway." Dusk's wing curls more snugly around Micah, his head tucking against the older man's shoulder. /His/ breathing is a little bit shakier, one wingtip dipping past Micah's lap to trace a long talon gently against the side of Jax's neck before he lowers it again carefully. "I should probably get back -- home. Just -- needed a break from work." There's a hesitation before he asks Micah, almost shyly: "Tomorrow's Sunday. Did you -- maybe want to start -- getting brunch again?" A sudden bark of laughter comes at Jax's image. "Oh, man, that'd be the day. I'd pay t'watch people's faces, someone walkin' in claimin' t'be the Son of God. An'...oh, wait, testifyin' on behalf of a mutant on trial. You'd hafta collect the jaws off the floor." Micah giggles a moment longer at this, his hand sliding from Dusk's wing into his hair to continue its petting there. "Mmn, we should prob'ly get in an' start lookin' t'ward bed, too." He leans in at the question, pressing a kiss to the top of Dusk's head. "Of course, hon. I've missed it. Moved back into the city just in time t'avoid havin' t'/commute/ from Westchester, too." Jax shivers, eye closing again at the trace of pointed talon. He lifts his hand to run gently along the side of Dusk's wing, fingers tracing gently against it. His hand drops a moment later and he blushes, deep, at Dusk's question, tipping his head back to cast a worried-apologetic look at the others. "Um -- you might -- hafta ask the kids about -- timing? It's um," his blush deepens, apologetic tone continuing, "it's Father's Day tomorrow an' I'm goin' to early Mass, I think they had -- well I don't /know/ what's their plans but I know they been. Plannin' a thing." His teeth sink down against his lip as he pushes to his feet, running his knuckles against the other man's wing again. "'pologies, I don't mean to be the. Parade -- rain – person." "Oh -- oh." Dusk swallows, nodding quickly at this reminder. He pulls his wing back from behind Micah slowly, a stiff awkward shift to try and avoid snagging claws against the futon. "No, that's -- right, um, maybe next week though. Brunch'll still be there next week." He nuzzles against the side of Micah's neck, brushing a light kiss there before pulling back. 'Goodnight,' he signs, wings still fidgety with an awkward inability to find comfortable resting place. "Oh, right, right. I'm still gettin' used t'bein' on the other side of that holiday. Was kinda...even 'fore we'd brought up me adoptin' the kids last year." Micah blushes faintly at needing the reminder. "Hey, no. Ain't no reason we couldn't just make it breakfast 'stead of brunch if y'don't mind bein' up early enough t'go when Jax's at church? If y'do, I don't /mind/ puttin' it off t'next week." He wraps an arm around Dusk's shoulders in a gentle hug at the nuzzle and kiss. "G'night, hon. Love you." "Yeah, it's. It's hard to get used to, I still ain't really -- I don't feel /old/ enough for --" Jax shrugs a shoulder, fist moving against his heart in silent apology again. He picks up the thermos, leaning in to press a light kiss to Dusk's temple. 'Love you,' he signs, one-handed. "'Night, honey-honey." A quick smile lights Dusk's face. He relaxes at the kisses, and nestles for a brief moment into the hug. "Yeah. I could do breakfast. You might have to come get me I'm pretty shitty at mornings." /This/ time, his repeated, "'Night," is offered with a far more content smile.