ArchivedLogs:Legal Aid

Legal Aid
Dramatis Personae Micah, Tian-shin
In Absentia	22 April 2015 (Occurs shortly after the odd morning visitor.)
Location <NYC> {Funhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The house might have started out looking capacious and respectable, but it has since moved through various incarnations, always colorful, but never colorful the same way for longer than a few days. There is little in the way of what most people would call furniture: a sectional couch buried in fluffy cushions, three bean bags of varying sizes, a scattering of bookshelves, what looks like a human-scale cat tree in one corner, and a low, square table surrounded by zafus. The floor plan is largely open, criss-crossed by rope bridges linking small elevated platforms to the landing of the second storey, beyond which lie the bedrooms. The kitchen is separated from the living room only by a long counter, lined with stools. Even the appliances are decked out in unexpected hues, edged with designs that change on a daily basis. A row of tins and jars runs the length of the breakfast counter, none of which match and all of which bear brightly colored text describing their contents: teas, coffees, mates, and various herbal blends. Funhaus has taken to the high seas! The platforms are easily turned into foretops, and sheets draped from the rope bridges serve as sails to a tall ship that stretches across the front wall. Open ocean stretches as far as eye can see in the walls, though an island looms up on one side with the bedrooms on top, a cave mouth below yawning to frame the kitchen. The sectional couch has been rearranged between two beanbags to create a skiff. Late in the morning there comes a knock at Funhaus's door. Probably it is a little louder than Micah intended. There is no question to the fact that he looks /harried/, auburn hair all a muss and bottom lip caught in his teeth. The red marks starting to show tell that this has been going on for some time. He is dressed for work in his usual TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis, though he clearly isn't /there/ on his typical schedule. His weight shifts nervously foot to foot as he waits for the door to open. Hopefully. After almost a minute's delay, Tian-shin answers the door in a terry bathrobe that looks like it had been dipped in a rainbow and then rolled in glitter. She has her hair twisted up into an equally colorful towel and a sheathed sword clutched in her left hand. "Micah! {Sorry...}" This last comes out in Mandarin, and she follows it with a sloppily signed SORRY that one /could/ interpret as HEART SURGERY instead. "I just got out of the shower. Please come in." Then, after a beat. "You're here about Jax, aren't you?" “Hi, hon. Apologies, I didn't mean to... I know it's early, I just...” Micah's teeth dig into his lip again, apparently incapable of finishing a sentence for the moment. He slips into the house, closing the door behind him. “Yes. Yes, it's about Jax. He went t'turn 'imself in. Wouldn't even. Let me take 'im. It's... It's always... It's bad.” Hurrah for understatement. His shoulders sag further. “We need help.” "I ah...I read the news. Not just the mainstream media's version, but even the sources actually concerned with good journalism don't know much yet. If it puts you at ease at all, I am prepared to represent Jax if he needs counsel. I was going to offer...after I got dressed." She pads through the living room and sets her sword down on the breakfast counter. "Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, alcohol..." She pokes her head in the refrigerator. "...juice, milk substitute. Or food, we have lots of food." “There's not much t'know. Ain't been enough time t'put a story out even if we wanted to, an' we know that's not a good idea without counsel.” Micah collapses onto the couch, forehead immediately falling forward into his hands. “The short story is that these crazy women with arrows an' knives /shot/ m'husband and one of our teenage students for bein' mutants. There was fightin'. It's amazin' the number of us as've gotten full of /arrows/ lately.” A sudden, fierce blush lights in Micah's half-hidden cheeks. “Not...I mean. M'family an' friends us, not...” His hands slide up into his hair, tangling his fingers in it. “No, please. I don't think I've got a...no. I'm troublin' you enough. He needs counsel pretty immediately. He went t'turn 'imself in. I mean, for the usual things but also t'make sure they don't abuse 'im too bad? An' he gets /fed/ an' some sunlight. He...he's vegan an' he needs lotsa sugar 'cause of his X-gene expression an' he's pretty much solar powered. We've done this. We've done this an' they half kill 'im an' it doesn't matter. It was the same way with Dusk an' not givin' 'im no blood t'stay alive.” Tian-shin returns to Micah, perching herself on a beanbag and laying a hand--hesitantly--on his shoulder. "I'll fight tooth and nail to get him what he needs, certainly, but hopefully he won't be in there long enough for that to be much of a concern." She chews on her bottom lip, eyes skimming across the waves painted into the floor. "This whole thing is very fresh, and social media is exploding with it. If we can find some kind of footage, or contradicting eyewitnesses--other than Jax and the student--it would be very helpful. But if he was injured, that improves the chances I can get him arraigned quickly and that the judge will set bail at arraignment. I'll do my best to bring him home." Micah leans into the touch, light though it might be. “Hopefully. I just... He gets arrested a lot, an' usually not for long. I mean, /I've/ gotten arrested enough since gettin' into all this. But it's...they took 'im in chargin' 'im with terrorism b'fore. Him /and/ Dusk. With no real evidence. An' kept 'em so long, the both of 'em were fallin' apart. An' then Dusk got arrested for /defendin'/ 'imself after a hunter shot 'im. Kept /him/ long enough, too. An' convicted 'im. It's... I just don't got a lotta hope for the system ever actin' in a way that's remotely okay when it comes t'my family.” He digs the heel of a hand into each of his eyes in turn, trying to rub away the wetness threatening there. “With Jax, there's no chance of 'im gettin' tried as /him/. More'n most, ain't even a chance of 'im gettin' tried as A Mutant. He's a symbol of people with X-genes tryin' t'do good, an' people just wanna take 'im out for that more than anythin'.” There is an attempt at a slow, deep breath, but it's shaky. “You think you can do this? I'll help any way I can. Information, transportation, fundin'. You just tell me what's needed. An' thank you.” "Claims of terrorism gives law enforcement a /lot/ more leeway to bulldoze people's rights--which is not to say they don't do it with other charges." Tian-shin sighs. "They just don't need to /try/ nearly as hard when they can play the 'national security' card. Lo siento, I'm not trying to downplay your concerns--I have followed these cases, and I know they haven't gone..." She shakes her head suddenly. "...well. Still, I am going to get on this, and I have networked with other lawyers and advocates. We can fight this--or, if Jax prefers, cut a deal and cut our losses." She rises. "You can thank me when your husband's home, but you're welcome anyway." She smiles, offering him a hand up. "As soon as I'm presentable, I'll head down to central booking." “I know. It does. Keep tryin' t'tell m'self this won't go as bad as all that.” Micah tries his best to summon a small smile for Tian-shin. “As much help as we can get. It's all appreciated an' then some. 'Specially y'bein' able t'get on it so quick.” His head shakes firmly. “I absolutely can't imagine 'im cuttin' no deals. Would go against principle. He's not one t'go against principle. Y'should see the size of the fines they keep sendin' for 'im not registerin'.” After a moment's pause, he takes her hand and gets back to his feet. “Apologies again, interruptin' you gettin' ready. An' thank you. Again.” His hand raises in a small wave before he heads back out the door.