ArchivedLogs:Long Divide
| Long Divide | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2017-09-16 "Your influence has the ability to impact mutant and non-mutant readers." |
| Location
<NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side | |
The right side of the second storey is not quite as open in design as the left, but it is more plentiful in natural light, especially where it fetches up against the glass side of the conservatory. Towards the rear of the house is a modestly sized bedroom with wide glass double doors leading onto a balcony that connects to the conservatory, and thence to the Geekhaus balcony on the other side. The room itself is homey and comfortable, a queen size bed well-supplied with pillows and Care Bears, a drafting table beneath a window, a vanity stocked with a vast array of colorful and glittery makeup, and brightly painted bookshelves heavy in cookbooks and young adult fantasy. The room beside it, though similar in size and shape, is almost completely bare and, despite excellent ventilation, always smells of paint fumes. Its only visible permanent features are the small, unobtrusive surround-sound speakers, in addition to which it usually contains only an easel, a stool, and a small table. Hidden behind blank white wall panels, however, are cabinets full of paints, pigments, brushes, and a vast array of other artist's tools, as well as a fold-out computer workstation. Across the hall are two other bedrooms, a bathroom in between. One is decorated in rustic fashion, right down to the mission style furniture and handmade quilt. The other is quite a bit more eclectic, and prone to changing decor on a regular basis. At the moment, the walls, ceiling, and floor are painted up like a starfield, with a startling illusion of depth that makes the room look uncannily large. The loft bed is shaped and painted like a sleek spacecraft resting on its docking platform, while the beanbag chair beneath it is pattern like an asteroid dotted with innumerable craters. The desk looks like /and actually is/ an exceedingly advanced computer console, equipped with configurable touch surfaces and interactive holoprojectors. A corner of the room is given over to colorful interlocking foam play mats, more often than not home to half-completed LEGO or K'NEX projects. At the end of the hall, tucked beside the emergency stairwell back down to the ground floor, is a whimsical spiral stairway leading /up/ into a cozy attic room. A slouchy sofa takes up most of one wall and a long, low bookshelf most of the opposite one. A cushy armchair sits under the octagonal window, and several floor lamps provide adjustable angles, levels, and temperatures of illumination. The inside wall of the room has a door leading to a storage crawlspace, and a trapdoor nearby leads down to Spencer's bedroom. It's quiet, upstairs. Though downstairs there is video gaming and chatter and breakfast, this particular part of the house is having a lowkey Saturday morning. Not /deserted/, though -- the smell of coffee and rosemary-garlic potatoes and tofu scramble is drifting down from the cozy attic nook. Up there, Jax has retreated with his breakfast, curled up in the armchair by the window. He's in his pajamas still -- soft purple yoga pants and a plain black tank top -- coffee sitting on a small table in front of him and his plate, half-emptied, in his lap. A Nook sits on the arm of the chair; he's tapping it to page through the book kind of slowly. Steve's plates are both already empty, as is the large mug beside them on the coffee table. He's dressed in a bright yellow t-shirt with a dancing skeletal T-rex above the word 'FOSSIL' spelled out of bones, and comfortable well-worn jeans, sitting on the sofa with a look of fierce concentration, doggedly attempting to knit a ball of pale blue yarn into.../something/. Spencer appears in the room, dressed in sharp new clothes for temple already. "Adios Pa, Steve!" He plants a kiss on Jax's cheek, swipes the empty plates and mug plus Jax's half-empty cup for good measure, and disappears again. Steve looks up from strangled and chaotic mess of yarn in his hands and smiles at the boy. "See you later, Spence." Though he blinks at the vanishing of the not-yet-finished coffee, as well, and seems about to say something about it when his phone rings. He looks down at his pants as if perplexed by the cheerful tones issuing from it, then digs the device from a pocket to frown at the screen. "Pardon," he mutters, still frowning, and answers the call, "Allo?" "Hi, Captain Rogers? I apologize for reaching out unannounced like this. This is Theodore Fegenbush, we met a few days ago, I was the guy with the little robot. I think we both know Jax Holland as well." He listens for a moment, eyebrows rising up, perplexed gaze flicking to Jax for a moment. Then, "I remember, Mister Fegenbush. How may I help you?" "Yes, I was giving you a call because, well, I ran a hiring fair yesterday. I know that you are supporter of mutant rights. Unfortunately, there are some people who seem to misunderstand my purposes. I don't mean to impose on you except that I saw your retweet of the article by people who have grossly misunderstood me. I would like to have an opportunity to talk with you about it, if you would be so gracious. Would there be a chance I could buy you lunch and talk about it?" Jax's smile is quick, bright. He lifts an arm to hug Spencer, straightening just briefly at his hair before the boy disappears again. He frowns, but only briefly, when his coffee disappears. "My caffeine vanished. Do you want --" He cuts off with a puzzled lift of brows when Steve's phone rings. Brows lifting even /higher/ when Steve answers. While Steve is still listening to the person on the other end of the line, Spencer returns with both mugs -- Steve's refilled and Jax's topped off -- as well as a plate of cookies. "I know it's kind of early lo siento," he stage whispers, wrapping his father in a tight hug. "Adios for /real/ this time!" He waves rapidly at Steve before vanishing yet again. Steve waves back and picks up his coffee for a grateful sip before saying into his phone, "I'm not sure what we have to talk about, Sir...or why you would talk about this with /me/. I shared the X-Press article because it has been widely discussed in the mutant community and I thought it provided an important counterpoint to the Gothamist piece that most other human readers might not otherwise see." "Honestly, the reason is a few fold. One, I know that Jax, for some of his shortcomings, would not be so close to someone who is untrustworthy. Second, both articles are missing the meat, and make it difficult to help the mutant community. I aim to help mutants, but I cannot do it alone. Your influence has the ability to impact mutant and non-mutant readers. I want to bridge a long divide, but I can't do it without help." "Gracias, querido." Jax drops a light kiss on Spence's forehead this time. Despite not having been finished with his breakfast he snags a cookie, munching it happily. His lips twitch as he continues listening to Steve's conversation. 'Really?' his sign is kind of amused, kind of incredulous. Steve sets the coffee down and signs 'Really' right back -- also incredulous if less amused. Then, aloud, "If you take issue with the article, maybe you should join in the dialogue about it. Talk to the /mutants/ who felt that it spoke to their experiences." He rubs his temple. "And I agree you need help, but I am neither equipped nor willing to provide it. I highly recommend my PR manager, Lucien Tessier -- he was with me when we met." "I understand. I actually was taking some advice by him. He was there last night. I wouldn't sell yourself short on being equipped in the area, but will take you up on that. How is the best way to get ahold of him?" 'Why talk to a mutant,' this isn't signed -- it just appears in glowing text hovering in the air in front of Steve, 'when you could get a totally unbiased point of view from a respectable human who can comment on these things neutrally.' Jax lifts his coffee, sipping it slowly to hide his growing smirk behind it. Steve's jaw tightens visibly. "I'm not selling myself short, Mister Fegenbush. I will send him your contact information and let him know you are interested in talking to him, if you are amenable. Have a good day." "Thanks Captain Rogers, I appreciate it and will let you get back to your day." Hitting the 'end call' button on the screen, Steve breathes out a slow stream of air, and picks up his coffee for a long drink. "That was...slightly surreal." He rubs his forehead. "Poor Luci." Jax lowers his coffee as Steve picks the other cup up. "That article weren't wrong, it's just sayin' what near everyone I talked to who was there already done say. What did he expect from you? A retraction of something you ain't even write?" Steve shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe he realizes he's out of his depth and reached out to me /because/ I'm a human who's deeply involved with the mutant community. Because he doesn't want to lay the burden of educating him on mutants?" He frowns again. "No, that's probably too a /bit/ charitable. It didn't really sound like he was so much interested in hearing what folks had to say as convincing them they're wrong about his company." He sets down his coffee, takes his phone back up, and swipes on it rapidly.
"Well, Luci's under no obligation to take this case." Steve quirks a rueful smile at Jax. "By the way, Fegenbush implied that he knew you -- more than just having met you in passing last night. Said he trusted me because you did...more or less."
Jax's brows raise skeptically at this first explanation. "Mmm," is his vague reply to it. "I'd like to think that's true." A small shrug, as he scoops up some potatoes to chew over. After swallowing, "Ryan reposted that article too an' he's probably got way more followers than you that -- are /directly/ relevant to Theo's project." He scoops some of the scramble up to follow the potatoes, washes it all down with a gulp of coffee. "We went t'school together."
"I suppose, in fairness, he's met /me/ before." Steve settles back into the couch, thumb still moving over phone screen. He pauses a moment, looking back up at Jax. "Wait, no, Ryan met this guy with Tag to do the paperwork for Chimaera." He sighs. "Alright so it's probably a case of --" But here he breaks off. "He went to school with -- really?" Now he looks genuinely lost. "Why didn't he call /you/, then? Unlike myself /or/ Ryan, you were actually there."
Jax lowers his coffee. Just looks as Steve, flat, a long moment before his eyebrows inch upward. | |
