ArchivedLogs:Sushi
| Sushi | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2013-05-16 RIP fish. |
| Location
<NYC> 214 {Jim and Ash} - Sunrise Apartments - Clinton | |
Jim's apartment is not big, the living room area L-shaped with the entrance at one end and a kitchenette found at the other. Furnished by a scuffed wooden curb-found coffee table, a saggy green couch upholstered in a scratchy burlap material and two chairs, the habitat manages to just barely function as a one bedroom rather than a studio by merit of a walk-in closet sized bedroom you would have to cross through to reach his cramped bathroom. In here, water damage stains the walls. As does rust, around the showerhead in the cramped shower stall. Work is done for the day, a long day of construction that at least took place in a perfectly pleasant warm-but-not-/too/-warm spring day. There's been a short while afterwards; long enough for Hive to collect a paper bag full of some spicyhot scent but not long enough for him to go home and change. He's still in heavy work boots, thick jeans (fraying at the bottoms, faded, but still sturdier than many of his threadbare clothes), a plain black t-shirt that is kind of still sweaty-damp. He doesn't knock; he takes out his key and unlocks the door, slipping in to the apartment and taking a moment to look -- kind of /sadly/ -- at the dirt-strewn floor. The breath he lets out is slow, and then he picks his way across the floor to the kitchen(ette) counter. He sets the bag down to look at the small tank on the counter, picking up a little canister of goldfish food even as he tips his head down to peer into it. With a /frown/. Ash had plenty of time to come home and actually hop in the shower to rinse all of the sweat and construction dirt off himself before stepping out and into fresh clothing. When he exits the small bathroom, he's wearing a tank top and clean house jeans, which are a good deal softer and lived in than his work jeans, his hand covered in towel as he wiggles a finger in his ear to sop up some of the moisture inside. He rounds the counter/wall feature that makes the kitchenette a kitchenette instead of /just/ a smattering of appliances against a wall (nevermind that it's just the corner of one cabinet and a smattering of appliances is how one defines a kitchenette). Then he pauses. He pauses and tilts his head to one side and peeks. "Hey." The little tank is not the quaint goldfish bowl you might see on television. It's rectangular, its widest face roughly the size of a text book, and not terribly deep. Bright blue pebbles line the bottom! And... the walls are a little scummy but hey. Fish crap in their water. Except this one doesn't seem like he'll be crapping any time soon. Sushi the Goldfish is lounging like he's having a lazy day at the beach... in that he's floating belly-up in the water, his crazy little OH GOD WHY fish eyeballs fixed on a vision of some fresh new HELL beyond this mortal coil. Float. Hive is just staring. At the goldfish. His hands plant on the counter, fingers pressing hard against its surface. His lean shoulders are tightening up hard. "-- Fuck," is what he answers Ash. "Nah, I'm good right now." Ash smiles a little and transfers the towel to his other ear, dabbing out a little moisture. Then he heads toward the fridge, draping said towel on a chair as he goes. He goes in search of a little something bubbly and produces a birch beer soda. Wordlessly, he offers one to Hive. "Do you need a moment alone?" "Wh --" The telepath looks up in some confusion, eyes narrowing on Ash. But then he looks back down at the tank. "/Fuck/." This does not preclude him reaching out to take the bottle, though he stares at it, too. Eying its label for a long time before fishing his keys out of his pocket and using them to pry the bottlecap open. "I killed him." His voice is flat. He gulps at the soda, staring once more at the little orange-and-white fish. Sushi makes no comment. Just coasts along on some burbly current made by the water filter. Is that a little bit of algae growing on his EYEBALL? Aw, it's like moss. He takes after DaddyJim. IN DEATH. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I might have had a hand in that. I … tried to feed him sometimes, but I don't actually know what I am doing." Ash twists the lid off his soda and tosses it in an open trash can before drinking some of the clear liquid down. He sets his bottle down on the counter as he moves up behind Hive to look in on the fish. "Should we... um, give him a burial at sea? Send him to his people for their rituals?"
He's starting to send a third but then just stops, kind of defeated, to drop his hand back to the counter. "-- The ocean is far away," he grumbles, even though it's really -- right there on the subway. "Plus I don't think goldfish live in it." Ash reaches up a hand to gently place on Hive's shoulder. "I know. They're fresh water. I just don't know if it's worth it to send the body to the correct region. There's so much red tape when transporting nonliving beings." He sighs and considers the fish. "But the ocean fish can give a slightly better approximation of that species' traditions." He pauses, considers, mind ticking off thoughts about whether or not it will offend Hive to say it, but as it is an option anyway, he might as well, "or we can use him as fertilizer. Jim might like that." Beneath Ash's hand Hive's wiry shoulder is tense, /vibrating/ slightly from the hardclenched weight he is putting on it in his lean against the counter. "Do goldfish have fucking traditions?" Frown. /Frown/. He's looking at the fish now like it has /also/ done this personally to spite him. "Fucking Sashimi." Was its name Sushi? Possibly its name was DINNER. He's probably called it different things every time he came by. "... Jim might like that." It's a gruff agreement. His eyes are still fixed on the floating fish. Blub! Except not. There is no more blubbing to be had by this fish. Jim's probably been last on a nut-kick for names. Pistachio. Peanut. Ridin' the waves. Like he's dancing. << Damn, you're tense. >> The thought is not intentionally directed at Hive, but it does surface rather quickly in Ash's mind. He frowns inwardly, trying to think of a way to fix this. "You want me to..." << rub your shoulders? Bury the fish? Break down all of the city buildings until we find him? >> "make you a sandwich?" He turns away for a moment, leaning on the counter near Hive, sipping his drink, gaze distant. "I brought dinner," Hive admits, glancing up towards the paper bag with him. "It's -- hot pot." He is not getting any /less/ tense, though after a moment he slumps down against the counter, taking another pull from his drink, too. "We should bury it first. /Then/ tear apart this fucking city." Ash nods a little and moves behind Hive again, reaching a hand toward the tank, lifting the small pebbles at the bottom of the tank to lift them up and bring them up against the bottom or .. well, perhaps the top of the fish, lifting it the rest of the way out of the water so that the grimy tank water can start to drip off of it. He reaches another hand over and opens the cover, continuing the motion until the fish is clear of the tank. He then wraps his free hand around Hive's shoulders and leads him toward the living room, the little fish floating before them in a strange funereal march into the living room. Ash selects one of the ficus pots, releasing Hive, as he focuses his other hand on lifting the dirt clump out of the pot. he moves it toward the corner of the room near the window, where a hole in the dirt there appears, just about the right size for the transplanted tree. "Did you want to say a few words?" Hive taps the lip of the bottle against his teeth. He exhales a long hissing sigh, also through his teeth, and pushes himself upright. "Shit," he mutters, ambling across the floor when he is led along. "Fuck you," is apparently his eulogy to Fish. "I /will/ tear apart this whole fucking city, you know I can. -- We're getting a new fish," he tells Ash. Ash gives a little sniff as an addition to Hive's eulogy, and then shunts the fish into the dirt hole, laying the tree gently on top and shifting the earth around it until it is settled. He then glances sideways at Hive and nods firmly to both statements. "Say the word and I will be right there at your side, tearing the walls down around their ears." There is solemn firmness in Ash's tone and a narrowing of his eyes at the end of the statement, but he turns away, softness and a subtle sadness taking its place. "Come on, let's eat." Hive closes his eyes. Just for a second. And then he nods once, firmly. "Yeah. Let's -- let's eat." | |
