ArchivedLogs:Extra Hands

Extra Hands
Dramatis Personae Shane, Spencer
In Absentia	2018-01-18 "/Oddly/ enough not so many people are keen to put it out there that the place they're living is mutant-friendly."
Location <NYC> Queens
Home to the New York Mets and thus a fierce rivalry among baseball fans, Queens is the largest of New York's boroughs in size, and the most ethnically diverse urban area in the worlds. Many of the different neighborhoods in Queens reflect that diversity, and the various cuisines found throughout often are in keeping with the traditional backgrounds of the residents there. It's a chilly afternoon, above freezing, if only barely. Across the clear, bright expanse of the sky -- piercingly blue, in the way of January skies -- cuts a sleek flying machine that only bears the most general resemblance to a motorcycle, the faint hum of its propulsors barely audible from ground-level even where the streets are relatively quiet. It is mostly gleaming silver and electric blue, with black trim here and there. Its rider is small, and not particularly noticeable, his heavy winter gear in similar colors as the bike he has flattened himself down against, presumably for better aerodynamics. As the machine approaches the built-up commercial district of Flushing, it begins to shed altitude, describing a long northwestly curve down towards the roof of a shabby building. A lone figure standing on that rooftop resolves into the shape of a slender east Asian woman who seems a bit underdressed for the weather in somewhat frumpy, librarian-esque blue midi dress and sensible flats, shoulder length black hair blowing freely in the wind. She carries a large silver thermos under one arm, and holds a smartphone in the other hand awkwardly between thumb and forefinger, as though she isn't quite sure what to do with it. In the wake of the first bike comes a second, silver and blue as well. The sleek silhouette of the hovercraft is marred by its boxy large panniers. Its rider is all in black, slacks and polished-to-a-shine boots not quite congruent with the heavily patched black leather Mutant Mongrels jacket he wears (buttoned over a crisp dress shirt, its collar showing beneath.) This rider's helmet bears a grinning shark-toothed face on the visor; when the humming bike touches down lightly on the roof, he pulls it off to reveal just as bright (just as toothy) a shark-toothed grin beneath. "{Jiaying, hi. I was hoping we were going to keep having spring but no such luck, huh?}" Shane's Mandarin is glib as he hops off his bike. The other rider starts unfolding himself from the bike before it has coasted to a complete stop. Spencer waves enthusiastically with one hand even as he fumbles his helmet off with the other, a process made more fiddly by his forgetting to remove his gloves first. "{Hi!}" is about the limits of /his/ Mandarin, apparently, as he continues in English. "We brought some stuff!" He sits his helmet on the seat of his bike and starts digging around in one the panniers. "{Hi,}" Jiaying's smile is thin as always but reaches all the way to her dark brown eyes, which somehow look so much older than the rest of her. She puts the phone away in a slim purse hanging at her side. "{Thank you}, for making the trip. It is not so bad yet -- though, perhaps colder up in the wind -- but we want to be ready." Her English comes easily, with a faint Chinese accent. "I made some tea, and you can come down, sit a while, and get warm, if you'd like and have the time." At the offer of tea Spence blinks from the side of his bike to Jiaying without bothering to close the pannier (it's still mostly full of mismatched nylon and canvas bags). He is not empty-handed, however. He trades a stack of three Chinese paperback novels bound in a cardboard sleeve for the thermos with a "{Thank you!}" Unscrews the cap of the thermos and inverts it as a cup for the fragrant, steaming oolong tea. "Tian-shin recommended that." Nodding at the books. "Yeah, that's legit. I'm sure winter's not quite /done/ with us yet. Ohshit {thanks}." Shane swipes the cup from Spence, inhaling deeply before blowing on it, taking a long sip. He passes the thermos cap back to his brother, opening his panniers to tug out a number of bulging canvas bags -- one of them, though its handles are loosely tied shut, is slightly spilling over with a lumpily folded coat, the ends of scarves, a large bag of hand warmers shoved into a fleecey hat. "Travel our way, you get to skip all the traffic. It's not a bad trip -- if you don't mind heights." Jiaying turns the books over in her hands, smiling a little wider. "{Thank you,} I was running low. The apartment's...crowded, these days. Means a lot more staying in my room and reading." Spence takes the opportunity, while his hands are free, to pull off his black gloves and shove them into the pockets of his softshell jacket. Then takes the cup back and drains it. "The wind isn't so bad if you're dressed for it." He twists the cap back on the thermos and goes to fetch his own load of winter gear from his bike. "Are you gonna need extra hands, too? When it gets really cold again? We can like, put out the call." Jiaying raises her eyebrows at Shane. "The /heights/ I can deal with. But being out there?" She shakes her head and waves the boys along after her toward the stairs. "/This/ is enough sky for me, and I've already had enough for the day. I don't think we'll need extra hands, not yet, but maybe more space, soon." Her shoulders relax visibly as she steps into the narrow confines of the stairwell, leading them down two floors to her apartment. There is an air mattress set up in the living room, blankets piled on it and on the couch. "We're pretty much at capacity here, and I heard Den and Kira are getting evicted at the end of the month." Shane hoists the bags up onto his shoulder, trotting along down the stairs after the others. He drops his cargo into a corner by the couch and hops up to sit on the arm of the sofa. The ridges of his brow knit inward at the last news. "That's not long." There's a slow faint ripple of his gills, but the frown smooths out shortly. "I'll talk to Ion, yeah? If there's places that have a short-notice opening he'll know." Spencer brings up the rear, his boots thumping hard on the stares as he descends. He settles his bags next to the ones Shane brought down, then drifts around the living room, visibly trying not to touch things. "You already had three roommates, right?" He pours himself another cup of tea, sips at it. Jiaying sinks down onto the couch. "Yes, before Rivkah and Shar moved in." She looks at the air mattress, frowning. "I'd appreciate it. I know he's got a lot to do, but the other houses we know are either full up, or...have landlords who wouldn't tolerate someone who looks like Den." Her mouth twists aside. "That's probably why they're getting kicked out to /begin/ with, though they didn't say." "I mean, sure he's busy, but part of what he --" Shane shrugs a shoulder, spreads webbed fingers upward in front of him. "Part of what we /do/ is this." The faint scowl that twists his features is brief. As is the shake of his head that follows. "Not surprising. We got dreams of having some kind of more /formal/ association of landlords or co-ops or housing options that aren't bigoted fuckfaces but --" One of his eyes scrunches up. "/Oddly/ enough not so many people are keen to put it out there that the place they're living is mutant-friendly. Seems like a great way to --" His gills ripple again, faster. "Well. Get bombed. So word-of-mouth probably the best we can do for a while." Spencer finally comes to a stop -- more or less, one leg still bouncing restlessly -- beside Shane, leaning against the couch and handing his brother the cup. "It's probably dangerous for a lot of people, but there's also lots of empty places in the city and we know people who could help get them hooked up with like, water and electricity and stuff." The bouncing gradually transfers to...his entire person, dislodging his shaggy brown hair from where the helmet had pressed it down against his scalp. "If you know folks who'd prefer squatting over crowding in." He glances at the air mattress. "We can also probably find you another camp bed." Jiaying nods. "Our landlords have a hard enough time with Kati, hopefully no one makes any complaints about Den, if they do end up having to stay here, after all." She stands up and starts folding blankets, kind of mechanically. "I don't think they'll want to squat, certainly not where they are currently, considering the hostility from their neighbors, but if I hear anyone discussing it seriously, I'll point them your way." She smiles thinly at the brothers. "I wish there were more I could do for that kind of organizing, but if I /can/ help -- well, I have plenty of free time!" Shane takes the tea back from Spence, cupping it in both hands with the tips of his claws clicking lightly against its sides. "Yeah, I mean, if it does come to that we could probably rig up some pretty /luxe/ squatting but --" His mouth twists to one side. "I'll talk to Ion. And we can /always/ use extra hands, yo. Cooking, cleaning, laundry... been hard to keep up with the requests we're getting lately and the clinic's always packed." With a shake of his head, he takes a gulp of tea and hops down off the sofa. Passes the cup back. "You just let us know if you want to swing by and volunteer, we're not gonna say no to some help." Jiaying accepts the cup back with a bow and keeps hold of it. "Cooking, cleaning, and laundry -- that I can do, and I'm plenty willing. Getting out of the house is tough some days, but as crowded as it's going to be here, I really must -- else I'll go madder than I already am before winter's done." Her smile remains thin, but her tone is light, bemused. "{Thank you}, again, for bringing those supplies. Have a safe flight back!" Spencer straightens up -- the height he has on his older brother suddenly stark -- and bobs his head at their host. "{Thank you} for the tea!" He trots to the door, pivots just outside the threshold. "Enjoy the books, and if you need more stuff, or whatever, let us know. {Bye!}" And with that he's pounding up the stairs for the rooftop.