ArchivedLogs:Rambling

Rambling
Dramatis Personae Jax, Noah
In Absentia	2014-08-15 '
Location Noah's truck
Noah is knocking on the door of Lighthaus at exactly eight in the morning. There is every chance he has been lingering around the courtyard for a few minutes, not wanting to be too early, but obviously eager to go. He has even made an effort to clean up! His pants have no holes in them, and his shirt actually looks like a nice button up. If you ignore that the sleeves are raggedly cut off. Noah's scruff hasn't changed and his hair MIGHT have been combed at some point, but it is not any more. The reason why becomes apparent as he runs his hand through his hair, and knocks again. /Eager./ Jax is prompt, too, in answering! He's colourful again, turqoise capris embroidered in an intricate vinework design in black, a faintly rainbowy-oilslick-sheeny black corset-styled tank top, green-and-purple Keen sandals that partially but not entirely hide the duochrome purple-green nailpolish on his toes. His fingernails are oilslick-black too, and his eyes are hidden behind enormous mirrored sunglasses. He has a backpack on his back and his arms are laden with tupperware -- cookies visible in one, rice-paper-wrapped springrolls with their own tinier tub of sauce in another, a third with a fresh fruit salad. "Hi! I um, I mighta made a bit too much food this mornin' but only. It's kinda a /drive/ an'. Um." His cheeks flush a little darker. "... Hi. I'm ready. T'go." "I ain't gonna complain 'bout free food." Noah reaches out to take a few of the containers to lighten Jax's load. "I 'ppreciate ya drivin' wit' me. Long drive. I'd prob'ly get lost on the way up there." He talks faster than he usually does, shifting from foot to foot. "My truck is right outside. C'mon." Noah's truck is a Dodge Ram 1150, old and blue and dented and dirty. Dirty on the outside at least, because he had spent time cleaning it out the night before. He opens the passenger door for Jax before he gets in himself. The only sign that Noah stays in his truck is the folded blanket and pillow in the backseat, the one or two bags on the back floorboards. "Thank ya again," he says as he starts up the truck. "Know I been sayin' it a lot, but I don't know if I'd have found them if it weren't for y'all." "Aw, I think you'd get there alright, s'kinda a long highway slog but it ain't tricky." Jax relinquishes some of the food containers, following Noah out of the housing development to the street. There's a faint blush as Noah holds the door open for him, a dip of his shaved head in thanks. He sheds his backpack onto the floor of the passenger side, clambering in and snapping his seatbelt on. With a crooked grin he lifts his phone (it's in a glittery blue case with a silver dragonfly sticker pasted on the back) to waggle it at Noah. "'sides if we get lost, Google knows the way." He's a little fidgety too, once he's in the truck, fingers drumming restless where his arm rests along the window. His blush deepens at the thanks. "M'jus' glad we could help. Jim's sorta fantastic with this stuff. An' like I said, it's -- it was nice. Deliverin' good news to -- we haven't," he admits with a very small crooked tug of lips, "had a /ton/'a good news 'round here lately." There is a huff of laughter when Jax shows his phone, and it becomes apparent why when Noah digs his own phone from his pocket. It is an old Nokia, good for calling and texting and maybe a game of Snake. "Thank the Lord you got that, then. I ain't too much at navigatin' the city streets." He turns solemn at the mention of a lack of good news, buckling himself in and starting the truck. He's quiet, concentrating, as he pulls out into traffic. "Maybe this is the start of sum'thin new," he murmurs, before blushing. "The good news, I in mean. Maybe more will start comin'." "The city can be kinda a terror if y'ain't used to it but New York ain't so bad as some. Its streets make sense, at least. Oh jus' left up here." Jax points at the next turn, folding one leg upwards to tuck his heel onto the edge of the seat before he blushes and slides it back down. "I gotta hope so. Things can't be dark forever an' I feel better'n anyone when the sun's comin' back out." "'Sunshine is sweet; it is good to see the light of day,'" Noah quotes, a bit quiet. "Gotta have faith things'll get better. God don't let anyone stay in the dark for long, far as I know." He takes the turn smoothly, happy to let Jax play navigator. "Y'can put your feet on the seat. Trucks ain't made to be pretty in my opinion, so I don't mind." "Ohgosh. Thanks. I get a little -- I don't want to mess up anyone's --" Jax shrugs, slipping his feet out of their sandals to tuck one back onto the seat; he rests his other knee against the dashboard. He's quiet for a little bit, only voicing directions long enough to steer Noah out onto the highway where it's a good long straight stretch. "I got faith in spades," he finally returns to the previous line of thought, a small smile curling his pierced lips. "Jus' sometimes gets heavy on the way to --" The smile curls a little wider. "Guess I can't say /waiting/. I never been much good at waitin'. I got plenty'a faith an' plenty'a /energy/ t'help keep things shinin' even when it's dark around." Noah goes to say something, stops and reddens, and then opens his mouth again. "I can't argue with ya on that. Ever since... everythin' started, ain't much been good for me." His face flames a darker red before he continues, quieter. "Seemed to change when I met you and yours." Jax's head tips over against the window, eye fixed out onto the trees that line the highway and his smile still in place. "Like I said, I got a lotta sunshine. 'nuff t'share." He glances back over at Noah, smile fading a little bit more thoughtful. "Can't even imagine how rough it's been. S'hard, not knowin' -- with family an' the world so hectic. Bet they'll be proper excited t'see /you/." "I can't wait to see /them/," Noah admits, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. "Feel kinda stupid, though. I'm nervous of all things." He glances over at Jax, expression worried. "Don't know why. I been tryin' ta find 'em for so long. It's just..." Noah slouches a bit in his seat, worrying at his lip with his teeth. "What if they ain't looked for /me/?" "Ain't stupid. Emotions can be kinda a rollercoaster." Jax swivels around in his seat, reaching into the back for the container of cookies and opening it to take out two. Chai spiced snickerdoodles. He offers one to Noah. "Here. Cookies calm everythin'. Anyhow from the sounds'a it, way y'all are used t'livin', gettin' in touch might could be a bit of a /feat/. 'Specially when New York didn't have no phones for a minute there an' then the whole /place/ was a chaos an' if /you're/ out in the middle'a nowhere too -- I'm sure they worried. M'sure they looked. M'sure they'll be dyin'a happy that you done found 'em." Noah takes the cookie, a small smile curling his lips. He shoves it into his mouth, forgetting his manners, and makes a sound of pleasant surprise. "These'r good," he says once his mouth is less empty. "You's a really good cook." Something loosens in his shoulders at Jax's assurances and he relaxes, moving one hand from the wheel to rest on the console between them. "M'sure you're righ'." He smiles over at Jax, wide and happy. "Gotta have faith." Noah hits the cruise control and starts to fiddle with the radio. He goes from station to station, unable to settle on anything. "There any good country stations out here?" "I teach baking," Jax tells Noah. "'mong other things -- I mean, s'/high/ school bakin' so t'ain't exactly nothin' fancy, mostly makin' sure the kids don't set the kitchen on fire. But I do love t'bake a lot. My kid -- Shane, you met him, he owns a cafe a little ways from our house? I like t'bake things an' send 'em down there for sellin'." He grins at Noah's inability to find music and leans forward to tap lightly at Noah's knuckles, shooing him away from the control. He flips the radio over to 94.7, foot tapping along with the music as the station begins in the middle of "Get Your Shine On". He sings along -- not, it must be admitted, particularly /well/. He does not have a future in music. Noah doesn't seem to mind. He even starts to hum under his breath, every once in a while singing rather tunelessly himself. They fall into a relaxed pattern after that. They listen to the radio, and talk about things that don't involve the zombies. Every once in a while, Jax doles out food and Noah gladly takes it. He hasn't had much home cooking since he arrived in New York. Thanks to Jax's navigation and Noah's slightly impatient driving, it's only a few hours until they reach an unofficial halfway point. Noah finds a gas station to pull into so they can stretch and he can put more gas in the tank. " Y'want anythin'?" he asks, motioning toward the store. Jax maybe probably doles out a little more food than would be otherwise /necessary/, given how little home cooking Noah has had lately. When they finally stop he hops down out of the car, still barefoot, stretching his arms above his head gratefully. Around him there's a faint glow -- it draws a sharp /look/ from a man in a neighboring car before Jax ducks his head sheepishly and it fades away. "Oh, gosh. I'm dyin' for some caffeine jus' some black coffee -- though I kinda sugar mine so bad it's near syrup," he admits with a deep blush. Noah cuts his own displeased look at the man in the car, frowning. "I'll bring ya a handful o' sugar packets and then some," he says, expression smoothing out as he looks back to Jax. He's only inside the gas station for a minute or two, grabbing a large cup of coffee and stuffing sugar packets in his pockets. He gets a bottle of water for himself. He gives Jax his order, before pumping the gas and climbing back in the truck. He doesn't start it immediately. Instead he clears his throat and looks at Jax from under his bangs. "Ya know, it don't bother me none when ya use your powers. They's pretty." Jax takes the coffee with a grateful smile, bouncing one last time on his toes and then slipping back into the truck with his cup. He closes the door, resting his knee back on the dash comfortably, and holds out a hand, glittery-nailed finers beckoning for the sugar packets. A small smile touches his lips. "Thanks. I kinda /love/ what I do but. Freaks a lotta people out." His nose wrinkles up before admitting: "I mean, they do get kinda freaky sometimes. Like when I'm asleep an' projectin' what's in my dreams without even controllin' it. Can be kinda disorienting to people around me to jus' have the house suddenly /change/, y'know? But I think mostly they jus' unnerve folks. Still most'a the world not -- so comfortable with people like me." His smile brightens, and he turns up his hand -- a small red-orange lizard appears on his palm, bright-eyed and brightly /glowing/ like a hot coal. It slithers out as he stretches his hand towards Noah's, darting across from Jax's palm to wind itself around Noah's arm, still /looking/ hot though to the touch it feels like nothing at all. Thankfully, because in the next moment the salamander has burst into a wreath of dancing flames flickering around Noah's wrist. "M'glad you like it, though. S'a lot more comfortable not havin' to. Hide." Noah is digging in his pocket for the requested sugar packets when the lizard appears. He freezes instantly, not out of fear or shock, just automatically not wanting to scare it away. He blinks down at it when it winds around his arm, leaving a phantom tickle as it dissipates. It's then that Noah realizes he has a very large grin on his face. "Nah. Ya don't gotta do that 'round me." He finishes fishing the sugar from his pocket and hands the many packets over. There are a LOT, so Jax should have no problem making his coffee-syrup. Noah starts the truck after that, but doesn't pull away from the station just yet. Mixing coffee in a moving vehicle is not the best idea. "How much further ya think it is?" Jax tears open the sugar packets to mix them in -- /all/ of them, in fact, he wasn't kidding about his coffee. As long as Noah is not moving quite yet he hands the coffee briefly to the other man, crumpling the sugar packets into a ball in his fist so that he can hop briefly out of the truck again just long enough to throw them in the nearby trash can. "Oh gosh um. S'gonna be another hour an' a half, two, prob'ly. I think we got plenty enough cookies t'last the trip," he adds with a crooked-amused grin. "You ready for it?" "Like I can't even tell ya," Noah breathes, pulling back onto the highway. "I felt real bad - still do really - after everythin' started. Was my idea tha' they come up here in tha firs' place. So they got stuck up here, and--" Noah frowns, face twisted with guilt. "An' damn looters and general yahoos seemed to be as bad as zombies. They got their house, my dad's bike. Wasn't able to protect their stuff an' mine." "Don't think /nobody/ coulda predicted," Jax answers with a small wrinkle of nose. "Ain't no call for you t'feel guilty, only folks as should be feeling that is the ones who -- tortured an innocent man t'turn him into the weapon that started all that." Though despite saying this, there's distinctly a pang of guilt that crosses his /own/ expression. "The lootin' got right terrible up here but -- you know, I know it's rough? An' hard on those as got hit? But I couldn't be proper angry at those folks so much. Folks was desperate an' starvin' an' -- okay some people was jus' tryin' to take what /valuables/ they could snatch for free but. A lotta folks was jus' tryin' to live, didn't know much'a no other way how." His head dips so that he can take a sip of coffee, seemingly unbothered by its heat. "Guess that's what your folks is tryin' to /help/ up there. Teach people. Another way how." Noah's expression softens while Jax talks. "Yeah, ya got a point. An' it's... S'kinda stupid for me to care 'bout that stuff, ain't it? They's alive. I's alive. Was bad, but it coulda been a lot worse. Shouldn't complain." He glances over at Jax almost shyly before continuing. "Know I been sayin' this a lot, but I dunno how else to thank ya. For everythin'. Tha good news an' food an' company. If I can do anythin' for ya while I'm here..." "Ain't stupid, everything -- things is kinda rough an' t'ain't /dumb/ t'get fussed about that kinda thing, I just -- folks in crisis don't always. Have a ton of good options, y'know?" Jax sips at his coffee before dipping back into the cookie container to get another pair of snickerdoodles, offering one over to Noah. "Wouldn't say no t'extra hands around some of our guerrilla gardens, if you end up wandering back by the city. I been really wanting to make it a -- bigger /project/ but time can be hard to find. 'sides that though, m'pretty happy jus' you an' your folks being happy t'gether, that's plenty thanks." "I'd love to help ya with tha'," Noah answers, a bit fast. "I miss stuff like tha'. Workin' with dirt, bein' outside. Outside in the city don't feel like... Outside. I don't know how long I'll be up here for, but I'll find ya when I head back." He seems like he might thank Jax again, but just holds himself back. "M'sure you need to get back sooner than tha', and I'll have a ride with my parents I'm sure. Ya can take my truck back and use it while I ain't if ya need to. Start helpin' ya out 'fore I start helpin' ya with the gardens." And THAT is a big offer coming from Noah. He is a 'typical' country boy in that he adores his truck. "I know that feelin'. I growed up on a farm so I jus' don't -- feel /right/ 'less I got earth t'work. There's a lotta places around the city that jus' ain't bein' /used/ though an' a -- whole lotta people could really use the extra food. Feel like we should start some sorta -- organization. Concerted /effort/ to turn empty greenspace into /useful/ greenspace." Jax blushes deep, dipping his gaze downward. "Oh, gosh, m'ramblin' look at me. We'll hafta talk more about it when y'get back." His brows hike a little higher at the offer of Truck, blush deepening but his smile brightening. "I /do/ gotta get back t'Micah an' the kids. You're -- y'sure you don't mind, that'd be a big help." Noah squirms in his seat, his own cheeks reddening at Jax's smile. "Ain't nothin'," he mumbles. "Small thin' for how you've helped me." He clears his throat, speaking louder. "An' I don't mind. The ramblin'. I'd like to hear more 'bout it anyhow. Long as ya don't mind that I ain't much of a talker." Jax flicks an amused glance over to Noah, mouth hooked up in a lopsided smile still. "/Well/. If you're gonna /encourage/ me t'be a chatterbox I got /more'/n enough ramble t'fill the rest of the trip." He twists around in his seat once more to procure a food container, settling back in comfortably. For a good long ramble.