ArchivedLogs:Starting Slow

Starting Slow
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve
In Absentia	2016-01-02 "{Maybe -- nice cold shower after.}"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Rooftop - Lower East Side
An open-air escape especially popular with smokers and fliers, the Common House rooftop makes good use of its limited space. The railing that circles it has child-resistant gates where walkways can be extended to connect to the other buildings in the development. A colorful and ever-changing table with sometimes-matching benches provides an ideal spot for an urban picnic. There are two garden boxes on the south-facing side, one for vegetables and the other for herbs and flowers, a tool shed and small patio table with chairs between them. It's cold up here this afternoon, crisp but bright, sunny. Jax has been up here a while, perhaps; the bowl in front of him is empty, though there's a thermos on the table at his elbow that he's still intermittently sipping from. Dressed in short pleated black and red skirt, tall fleece-lined thigh high socks (one leg red-and-black striped, one black-and-white), knee-high boots, an asymmetrically-cut red jacket, fingerless stripey red and black gloves, a matching knit cap pulled down over his head, enormous dark mirror-lensed sunglasses shading his eyes. He's seated at the patio table, laptop in front of him, drawing tablet in his lap, teeth digging into his (glittery black-lipsticked) lower lip as he works. His picture is only a sketch, at the moment, a dreadlocked centaur-like figure though the body is far more deer than horse, no hint of background yet. Steve's whistling -- 'El Mismo Sol', only a little off-key -- precedes him out of the stairwell. He appears a moment later, carrying his shield casually by its straps over one shoulder, a sketchbook tucked under the opposite arm. He's wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with a happily prancing cartoon skeleton of a T-rex over the word 'FOSSIL' (spelled out of bones), layered over an aqua long-sleeve thermal shirt and much-mended dark indigo blue jeans. He stops whistling when he sees he's not alone and, smiling, joins Jax at the table. "{Mind if I join you?}" he asks in Spanish. "{I'm up here for some open-air art, too.}" Jax starts humming along before really thinking about it, picking up along with the song before Steve is in sight. He glances up, a smile spreading across his face as Steve approaches. "{Glad for the company. I've been art so long my wrist is cramp.}" He puts his stylus down, shaking out his hand with a small wince. "{Cocoa?}" He nudges his thermos towards the other man. Steve leans his shield against a chair before settling into it himself. "{Thank you.}" Maybe he means the company, or maybe the cocoa, which he accepts and drinks. "{Is this art work, or fun? Or both?}" After a brief hesitation he stretches out a hand for Jax's. "{Maybe I can help? Your /hand/. Not the art.}" There's a definite spice to the cocoa, which is still quite hot in its thermos. "{Oh, this is work. I mean, not that I /mind/ drawing} centaurs {I just. Have such a stack of commissions to get through I feel like I haven't slept in --}" Jax blushes, shaking his head with a quick flash of smile. "{I shouldn't complain, long stack means work which means I might actually pay all my bills.}" The red deepens slightly in his cheeks as he holds out his hand, resting it in Steve's. "{I have like seventeen million requests in for people's /Star Wars/ characters, how are you at drawing spaceships?} "{You know, I never would have thought to put hot pepper in cocoa, but this is common now, yes?}" Steve lifts up the thermos appreciatively before putting it back down. He takes hold of Jax's wrist and kneads it -- very gently, conscious of his strength -- between his calloused fingers. "{Having work is good,}" he agrees, "{but my work ends when I leave the site. Yours...maybe hard to know when to take breaks? Not just for your hand.}" His brows knit slightly. "{I used to sketch spaceships, when I was little. Not /Star Wars/ one, of course. And not good enough anyone would /pay/ me.}" "{It --}" Jackson considers a moment. "{Is not /un/common.}" His head tips down, their hands reflected in the lenses of his glasses as Steve's fingers knead at his wrist. He exhales slowly, his fingers uncurling in a deliberate releasing of tension. "{I'm /awful/ at knowing when to take breaks,}" he confesses sheepishly. "{When I get caught up in a thing sometimes I just forget the whole world. It's better now I have Spence to look after. There was more than once before I literally passed out because I'd been caught up in a painting a day or more and forgot to eat.}" The red in his cheeks isn't fading, with this. "{Good to remember to stop. Get up. Move once in a while.}" His head shakes. "{I don't know about your spaceships but people would pay you for your portraits, no doubt.}" Steve chuckles softly, shaking his head. "{I keep forgetting that I live among not-so-common people.}" He works one of his thumbs down toward the heel of Jax's hand and the other up further up his wrist. "{Pass out? Really? I can get into drawing sometimes but, never long enough for it to be a problem. Besides, when I sketch up here, always people coming and going to smoke. /Good/ distractions. Sometimes we talk...}" He smiles brightly. "{...and sometimes we fight. /Friendly/ fight.}" "{My --}" Jax' brow furrows as he searches for a word, eventually fumbling into an awkward, "{-- body not always work very well. Kind of messed up. Need a /lot/ of sugar all the time. Really bad to skip meals. Even a couple hours, serious problem. Most of a day?}" His head shakes, though his smile is bright. "{Around here it's nice. Always people around to -- help remember to take care of myself. Harder to get lost.}" His hand rolls slowly, cautious and testing, relaxing once more to settle still and just let Steve work at it. With no small measure of amusement in his tone: "Yeah, I done heard you put some /hurt/ on my kid not long back." Steve's mouth pulls to one side in a rueful smile. "{I get hungry fast, too but...not pass out so easily. Just /feel/ terrible.}" He works his thumbs up into the palm of Jax's hand. "{Yes, people were always bringing bringing me food when I was sick...}" His face falls, eyes growing distant. Then he looks up at Jax's face, startled. "{Oh! Shane, yes...we were /sparring/, but he...didn't want me to hold back. As much as I usually would, against a human.}" He ducks his head, sheepish. "{I wouldn't have /really/ hurt him, bad.}" Jax laughs, deep, a quick flutter of light shimmering around him. His fingers curl in, squeezing at Steve's hand. "{I'm just teasing you. The twins can handle themselves. Probably you, too, if they're not trying to -- /not/ hurt you for real. Some things --}" His teeth click together demonstratively, "{Hard to use effectively sparring without causing real damage.}" Though now he looks down at their hands, his own thumb brushing against the back of Steve's. "{Be a challenge sparring you, huh.}" Now he just sounds pensive. "{I mean, I'm not /tough/ like them, but I'm hardly...}" His brows furrow again thoughtfully. Steve nods, his eyes tracking the light rippling out from Jax. "{I'm tough, but not tougher than teeth and claws. And the other day, fighting Dusk...it was something else.}" He smiles wider at the recollection. "{He just picked me up, up into the sky like a little baby.}" His hands move slower now, closing more fully over Jax's, pressing it between his and rubbing gently. "{You? In a real fight you can beat me /easy/. I'd never get near you. But fight without /hurting/ me? Maybe difficult.}" "{He's something else,}" Jax agrees, his voice slipping softer and a touch of pink back in his cheeks. The tip of his tongue presses up against his upper lip, breath drawn in a little shakily when Steve's hands close over his. There's a significant delay before he looks up, shaking his head quickly -- "Near me? Oh -- oh, fightin' -- {no, um, right. Difficult. I don't know how to even -- I don't know how we'd. What would. Would that even work? What would you need? From me? I don't know what you can handle.}" "{Something else,}" Steve agrees. "{I've never fought someone with light power before -- or any power that isn't physical, like Dusk or Shane.}" His brows knit thoughtfully. "{I can handle a /little/ burning, maybe? Also you can still use your shields, without burning.}" He suddenly perks up. "{Ah, if I also use /my/ shield -- not to throw or cut -- then you can shoot...light, fire. I can block.}" His hands had slowed and then gone still as he grew distracted, and now he blushes looking down at their hands. "{Did that...help?}" "{A little burning.}" Jax echoes this with a brief laugh. "{You can use /your/ shield however you want, I'm real sure /my/ shields can stand up to it. But /can/ you block? I know you're fast, but this is --}" His brows pull together. "... light. Beams I shoot move s'fast as, well, light. But I guess if y'can handle a /little/ burnin' y'might jus' end up singed a second here or there." He sounds uncertain about this, squeezing at Steve's hand. "{Oh! Oh -- thank you. This -- that. Felt good. Or -- oh. Did you mean your answer?}" His cheeks darken red again. "{I am /not/ faster than light,}" Steve replies, laughing abruptly. "{But like you say, if you not burn /too/ hot, I will be fine. Maybe -- nice cold shower after.}" He withdraws one of his hands, but squeezes back with the other. "{I meant this.}" When he lets go with that one, too, it's maybe a little reluctant. "{I want to fight you sometime. If you want. Can start slow, not real fight, more...like training?}" "{I'll try not to -- burn too hot around -- at. You.}" Jax's fingers uncurl, a little reluctant as well when Steve's hand withdraws. "{I also want -- I mean I'd also like.}" His hand lifts, rubbing against the back of his neck and then dropping to his lap. His fingers fidget with the hem of his skirt, twitching against the fabric. "We could start slow."