ArchivedLogs:Empty Chairs

Empty Chairs
Dramatis Personae Micah, Morgan, Ash
In Absentia	9 November 2014 '
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day, with a wide variety of menu to cater to specialized diets as well. Well-known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. It is a lovely day, if you don't mind the November chill, full of brilliant-bright sunshine and clear skies. The brisk wind tickles through the trees and spills vibrant autumn leaves in eddies that dance down the street. Home is warm and inviting in its...homey diner way, full of comfort food brunch smells and friendly staff. Micah is tucked into a Usual table, not a booth, alone with a plate of blueberry french toast and a side of garlic-cheese grits. The french toast has seen better days, slowly picked to bits by a fork with a questionable amount of it being consumed. The redhead looks like he's seen better days himself, operating said utensil with a distant expression. Pick pick. A family of four dawdles in the entrance of the cafe. Their three year old bounces around unattended while both husband and wife fawn over the contents of their SUV-stroller. Short, choppy hair pulled up tight into a high bun, Morgan cuts her way right through them. Behind her silver aviators, the former cop holds up a hand to her face to block the indignant expression of the young, yuppie mother, "Move it or lose it, lady." She wears a crisp, navy blue skirted security uniform complete with a fresh laminate ID card clipped to her blazer. Like a shark, Morgan zeroes in on Micah sitting alone. "My hero!" She grins, pulling off her sunglasses in one sweeping gesture, "Do you remember me? You fixed my skirt!" Ash emerges from the back of the restaurant, hands still damp from a trip to the restroom. He is rubbing them on the sides of his thighs, he wipes off what the sad paper towels in the bathroom could not. He settles back into chair across from Micah, reaching for his fork. He's fairly oblivious to the fact that Morgan is addressing his table companion until she gets closer. He looks up at Micah's face first, then over his shoulder at the noisy blond. On a closer view, Micah's attire looks entirely more cheerful than he does, as well, rainbow-patched jeans and a Serenity/Starry Night mash-up tee in bright, swirling colours beneath a blue and purple flannel. He startles at the sudden appearance of Person at his table, perhaps having forgotten that he was out in public during his slow motion food destruction. The look Morgan receives at first is a little wide-eyed. "Oh. Oh, hello, right. Some hero. Didn't get your purse back tryin' t'first aid at the thief, then he didn't even take the help. Still took your bag, though. Hope it didn't cause too much trouble for you." His head tilts slightly as he finally regards the woman more closely. "Looks like you're doin' well, though. Job search came out well in the end, I take it?" Micah startles /again/ as Ash returns, as if this is somehow a surprise. A few blinks later end in an acknowledging nod. "Oh...um. Ash. This is..." A few beats of pause accompany his flipping through a mental directory. "Morgan?" It is not the most certain of introductions. Morgan flicks her chin up in vague acknowledgement of Ash, "I'm sorry I don't even remember what your name is." She motions around with a finger as a server passes. Is it their server? She doesn't know. "Can I bother you for a coffee? You can have my first born." Thankfully, the blonde is a little too brazen to say no to. "Yeah, well. I'm probably going to get fired," Morgan turns back to the table, flapping her hand nonchalantly, smiling the whole time, "But I'm at the MoMA for now. It's awful." She lowers into a chair, comfortable enough not to require an invitation. "How are you? You look so sad." Ash looks dumbly between the two, his brows climbing his forehead. "Oh." He's a bit shaggy, truth be told, with floppy hair threatening to block his vision and cover his ears. His mouth is surrounded by a scraggly little goatee, though his skin is still a sun-kissed hue. He's wearing a brown jacket over a black tee, painted with pinks, whites and oranges of some sort of nebula. His jeans are tainted with earth and move stiffly as he shifts, his boots muddy, though dry. He's got a plate of eggs benedict that is a little colder for his extended trip to the bathroom. "He's Micah." “Micah,” the redhead replies, though the second syllable is barely voiced given that Ash was performing introductions at almost the same time. As the woman orders her coffee without a table, Micah's eyes settle on one of the two vacant chairs at their own table. “Did you wanna...?” There's another aborted sentence, as Morgan seats herself before he finishes asking. “Thinkin' you're gonna get fired on account of y'don't like it there, or s'it somethin' else?” He manages a very small hint of a smile. “Guess the job search didn't really end, then.” His cheeks pick up a few shades a pink at Morgan's observation. “Oh. Yeah, there's a lot goin' on that's less'n cheerful,” he answers with a shrug. "It's just a little boring for me," Morgan admits, reclining an arm over the back of her chair like she's in her own house. She itches a finger into the back of her head where her hair is pulled tight, "Also, I've only worked there a week and I've been MIA twice." Taking her cup of coffee before it hits the table, she lets out an amused scoff. "So, what's the matter?" "I... Uh." Ash's brow wrinkles as he stares at Morgan, his lips working at what exactly to say. He presses them together a moment later, consternation wrinkling the space between his brows, then looks down at his plate. "Complaining doesn't really help much. Reliving what's going on doesn't make anyone feel any better. I was thinking, asparagus would be really good with this. Garlicky, lemony asparagus. Brighten up the day a bit, right? Maybe?" He picks up his utensils and starts to cut up one of his topped muffins, careful to keep the metal from scraping the ceramic too badly. "Ain't the best way t'be keepin' a job, not t'show up half the time, for sure." Micah reaches for his tea, the cup scented pleasantly with raspberry and pomegranate on top of the tea leaf aroma. "What kinda work were y'actually lookin' for, if this'n's too dull t'even go to?" His teeth meet with his lower lip, eyes lowering to his plate at the question. "Just missin' folks. Some ain't even gone yet...already missin' 'em. An' s'usually somebody as comes here with me who...can't. Right now. Apologies, I don't mean t'be such a grump-face. S'good food an' good company, right?" The next small smile he summons up is directed at Ash, a nod agreeing with food being a good way to brighten a day. "I like that line of reasoning," Morgan accepts Ash's answer, even if she considers it a little diverting. She cocks a smile at Micah, tilting her head and elbowing towards Micah in a chummy way, "Micah whose name I didn't even remember until now, you didn't even read my resume." She winks, not quite answering the question, "I used to be a cop. I'm casting a wide net." Ash sets down his knife and reaches out a hand toward Micah, brushing his hand if it is near by. He studies the other man's face for a moment then looks back to Morgan. "Oh? You applied for a job with Micah? That doesn't seem at all like something a former cop would like. Though, I suppose he could use a security detail - just don't think his employer would pay for that." He loads up his fork with the gooey mess, then shovels it into his mouth, chewing mechanically afterward. “Ohgosh, no. I thought it'd be kinda...snoopy. When y'just gave it t'me for the contact information. I didn't look at the rest.” There's a brighter flare of blush, moving into redder shades across Micah's cheeks and the bridge of his nose, at the teasing. His head shakes in answer to Ash. “No, just. Happened t'have one on hand that she passed on t'me. Likely couldn't afford no security detail, 'specially since m'employer don't have very deep pockets.” At last there's a hint of grin, amusement at the employer talk given his self-employed status. “When I do contract work over at the Clinic, I kinda get t'fall under their buildin' security. S'pose that's really the most dangerous part of m'work, anyhow. So that's covered.” His head tilts at Morgan as he continues talking. “Could give you a contact name there if you're lookin' for more excitin' security. They'll be wantin' someone who actually...shows up an' does the job /well/, though. Security director's tough t'impress. Can't imagine she'd take any shenanigans from her subordinates.” Morgan laughs, swatting Micah, "I'm just fuckin' with yah." The blonde tosses back her head, downing the last of her coffee. "I may just take you up on that," she slaps her hand down on the table, leaving a five dollar bill. "Speaking of which, I gotta run." Standing, Morgan wiggles to hike down her skirt, "I think I have your business card, I'll uh hit you up!" Forming a gun with her hand, she aims at Ash and pulls the trigger, "Nice meeting you Art." Flipping back on her sunglasses, Morgan is gone just as fast as she appeared. "It's Jorge," Ash replies softly, shaking his head. He pulls his hand back toward his side of the table and lets it flop in his lap. "Bye." He swallows against the moisture in his mouth and looks from Morgan's departing figure, back to Micah, his brows inching upward again. “I know, it's just,” Micah pauses to gesture at his face, likely meaning the blushing, “involuntary.” His eyes follow the flurry of activity as Morgan takes her leave. “Good t'see you.” One of his own eyebrows lifts. “Art?” And a little further. “Jorge?” He shakes his head a little, finally using his fork to put food in his mouth. “We ran into each other one time on the street.” "I... don't give out my name a lot." Ash admits with a shrug. "I know saying that, I probably shouldn't have given out your name, but you're kind of famous and giving your name and card out freely, so it's probably okay as you were going to do it anyway. But. Yeah. Um. Still, probably shouldn't have. I'm just... You know, not myself right now." He offers a small smile, but it fades as his attention reverts back to his plate. "You sure it's less sad with more people here?" “Oh, I didn't even think. First names don't usually... I mean, even at AA meetin's folks use their first names. With all the Anonymous part, even. I'll try t'remember that in the future.” Micah returns Ash's shrug in kind. “No, I don't mind folks knowin' who I am, generally speakin'.” He munches on another bite of toast before answering. “His seat ain't empty. An' folks is talkin'. That's a little less sad.” Ash nods slowly as he starts to fiddle with his food. "I know, it's not the best of ideas. I just - well, there's been trouble in the past and sometimes it's easier just not to turn my head when someone shouts at me. Gives a better impression that I just look like the person they talked to." He shrugs and grabs his glass of water, glancing around the restaurant quietly. "Wish we could bring him breakfast. It's make things less... distant." Micah simply nods in response, accepting Ash's request and not feeling the need to give opinions on his reasoning. “Wish they'd let 'im have /anythin'/. Food. Blood. People. Ain't right the way they're lockin' 'im away. S'posed t'have... Still be treated like a /person/.” At least, now, he keeps eating. Since he still can. "I'm trying to respect this whole... living by the law thing. If not... we'd've sprung him and hidden somewhere in the mountains where they can't find us. Though, not sure he'd like the mountains anymore. I should probably take him to my mountains. They're warmer some times. Fewer hunters, more mountain lions." Ash shrugs and bites his lips. "But yeah. Lawfulness." “No, we need t'at least see what his chances are doin' this legally. The second we stop...he's a fugitive forever an' can't be with 'is family no more. Don't know how much the prospect of that'll...” Micah's head shakes. “Need to at least wait for the sentence. An' the appeal. We got,” his voice lowers, “ways of makin' sure he's fed. Already in place for now. Gotta hope that there's still a way t'get 'im 'is /life/ back.” Trading his fork for a spoon, Micah pulls his bowl of grits closer to begin working on those. “Though just takin' /everybody/ an' findin' some remote mountain t'hide out on keeps soundin' better'n better.” "I know," Ash exhales softly, his gaze lowered. "It's just hard to swallow. I'll be a good boy. Don't worry." He inhales deeply, then sets to work on his food with more gusto. "How are you classes, or are you not teaching this semester?" "It is. Very. But it's for Dusk, so it's worth it." Micah tries on a smile for Ash. "I got one class every term. Unfortunately don't have time for more. S'personal finance this go-round. Mostly teachin'...how t'have a bank account, balance a checkbook, perform basic transactions, handle a credit card, set up a household budget. Fairly dry stuff, but a lotta these kids ain't got parents t'show 'em none of it." The smile that comes now is a bit more genuine. "Been tryin' t'make it more interestin'. After the first basic house budget project, started givin' the kids more leeway in what they set up. Budgetin' your spaceship for a run t'the nearest station an' the like... Same principles, just less. Dry." "I learned that stuff from my grandparents. Had to, in order to take care of the other kids. It still strikes me as funny that some of the guys at work still don't know how to budget. They get a little extra money and they spend it on drinking - and they never plan further ahead than the next bill." Ash shakes his head again, even though the heaviness of his expression is lifting. "Good though, that you're teaching them. It's good. Spaceships and all." “A lotta folks don't never learn it right. S'part of why the better half of everyone's in debt an' the least thing that goes wrong...” Micah's head shakes, shoulders lifting. “At least health care is ostensibly covered now. That's part of one of my /other/ classes, though.” He collects his tea cup for another sip, cool enough now that he doesn't need to blow over the surface before drinking. “What're you up to these days?” "Society tells everyone it's okay to get in debt. Do you know how stubborn you have to be to not have credit cards these days? Being poor is a punishment. You can't go out, you can't have fun, you can't have all the normal stuff that they put on the tvs. Just having a phone is a necessity these days and who wants a virtually non-supported analog phone? Smart phone costs more than fifty a month in most cases." Ash prattles on emphatically for a little while, pauses when he realizes how much he's ranted. He clears his throat. "Ah. Apologies." "I did say 'part'," Micah agrees with a chuckle. "An' b'lieve me, I know. I was livin' out of a van for months when I moved here. Prob'ly would've been longer if I hadn't moved in with Jax when I did. Still had trouble with bills the /both/ of us after that for a long time." The chuckle returns, a little wry this time. "Though we do fund some particularly unusual extracurriculars." He doesn't push again about Ash's current activities, just tucking back into his brunch. "Oh. Well, those extracurriculars aren't cheap." Ash scratches at his chin, his fingernails scraping against the hairs there. He looks back up at Micah. "I don't know about living on streets or in vans. I guess I've been lucky that way. Went from living in the mountains to the labs, to Jim's place. Though, with how he disappeared... disappears, I basically decided he's living with me these days. Don't mind the bare life, it's the only reason I'm not in debt." He turns his glass instead of taking a sip, staring at it. "Not doing anything these days. Just work when I can get it." “Don't I know it,” Micah replies, a mock-rueful expression added to the statement. “Well...the van part was m'own fault. /Planned/ it that way. Weren't room in the budget for movin' an' startin' a new business /and/ affordin' rent, so.” There's another shrug. “I'd definitely say, since your house at the Commons was built for /both/ of you, that y'live with each other. S'both of your place. S'part of the beauty of livin' there. How it's just /yours/.” He swipes at the syrup on his plate with a bite of toast. "Yeah... it's kind of my retreat. I just sort of curl up in a corner and cover myself in earth... and it's amazing." Ash closes his eyes as he speaks, leaning back in his chair, his utensils going limp in his hands. "I don't know if I can describe how much... how important it is to just be quiet in the city like that. I can just get in touch with everything. It's keeping me from losing it." “It's important, yeah. T'have somethin' groundin'.” Honestly, Micah doesn't mean that as a pun just now. Something about the mention of needing quiet in the city clouds his expression again. “I should get goin' soon. Was plannin' t'pick Jax up after church.” He catches the server's attention, hand raised in a silent request for his check. "Oh, Yeah, sure. You gotta do stuff. That's cool." Ash agrees, slowly stuffing the last few bits of food into his mouth, smearing some potato in egg yolk, first, then gathering up a stray piece of ham. I guess I'll see you around home. Got bulbs to plant. Seems like a decently warm day for that." “Ain't many more of 'em t'come 'fore it's full-on winter. Good plan t'get 'em in now,” Micah agrees as he settles up the check and pulls out cash to leave on the table as a tip. It takes a little while for him to wind back into his jacket and scarf, hat and gloves. “Good luck with your plantin', honey. See you 'round.” "Yeah, see you around too." Ash isn't in a hurry to leave. He sits where he is and relaxes for a few minutes as Micah gets up to leave. "We're going to have some lovely blooms in the spring."