ArchivedLogs:Lunch Break

Lunch Break
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Jackson, Tag
In Absentia	2013-09-19 '
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. It is a brilliant autumn day in the City, and the bustle of the Manhattan lunch hour drift in through an open window. The scent of citrus and the singing of a high tenor voice are both evident from the empty living room. In the kitchen, Tag is mopping. He wears an oversized tie-dye t-shirt (a TARDIS near the center of the colorful vortex, mid-tumble) and bright purple cargo shorts. His hair is electric blue and tied back in a sloppy ponytail already shedding locks here and there. He is singing--not very /quietly/--in Mandarin. Xavier's block schedule on Wednesdays and Thursdays finds Jackson home earlier than the other days of the week -- though with his /own/ schooling and other jobs demanding his time, not always home for very /long/. Today he seems a little bit harried as he enters the apartment, brightly clad in sky-blue pants decorated with a wealth of black mesh pockets, reflective straps, black zippers, silver D-rings; he has it paired with a black fishnet shirt worn over a bright pink tank top. He slips off his shoes by the door, slipping into his bedroom to drop his messenger bag off there before returning out to the kitchen. His makeup is flickering, vanishing; it leaves behind a wealth of scars, dark-shadowed eyes, pale face, but a moment later he has hidden scars and raccoon-eyes and pallor neatly away behind a fresh layer of illusion, bright pink-and-blue makeup back in place and a warm smile on his face. "Woah hey --" He stops at the edge of the kitchen floor, glancing down at the fresh mop-job with a brightening of smile, "Thanks! -- Hi. Oh gosh. Now I don't want to mess up your work." Dusk is approaching not from the hall but from the fire escape, rattling his way down the jangling metal stairs in jeans, bare feet, no shirt, his wings folded in like a cape against his back. He's just finishing the tail end of a smoke that presumably he has been enjoying up on his /own/ fire escape one floor above; he mashes the end of the cigarette against the railing, lifting a hand to knock on the window before just tugging it open to let himself in. "You want to do my place next?" he says, teasingly light as he watches Tag's mopping. "Hey!" Tag beams at Jax over his shoulder as he retreats toward the doorway from the spreading territory of CLEAN. "You could always dry it super fast if you didn't want to step on it while it's wet, but I mean..." He looks down and picks up one of his feet, bare and calloused, blue nails shining with reflected light as he wiggles the toes. "I've probably already walked through it a few times." He hops into the living room finishes mopping over his previous foothold, sweeping his best imitation of a European-style bow. "All yours!" Then, to Dusk with a slightly manic grin. "I've still gotta get the bathroom floor and maybe the glass, but after that I'll totally clean your place if I can steal a computer and an Internet for a couple hours." He barely pauses for breath before continuing. "How was game night? Sorry I missed it what'd ya play?" "I steal his internet all the time," Jax admits, though he admits this with a deep blush. "At least since mine got cut off." His head ducks sheepishly, and a fierce hot glow blossoms over the floor, though he is careful to avoid burning Tag's feet with it. He waits a few moments before stepping into the living room, heedless himself of the hot light that is illuminating the floor. He beelines for the fridge, grabbing himself a carton of juice before he even thinks about food. "I missed it, too." His nose crinkles up at this. "Work's been pretty hectic this week. -- You shouldn't say that though he'll /totally/ take you up on cleaning his place." "I totally will, our place is a giant freaking mess." Dusk flashes the others a quick fanged smile, and his wings unfurl briefly, one brushing against Jax's shoulder in passing as the other curls around Tag in a squeeze of hug once Tag is out of the kitchen. "Don't think it's stealing if we've given you the password, anyway. You're welcome to our internet I can't actually imagine how anyone lives /without/ one." He turns his head, eyes shifting away from the spreading glow in the kitchen with a brief wince, though is smile doesn't dim. "Game night was rad. Had a friend --" He pauses here with a small shrug, a faint flush of colour in his cheeks. "Flicker brought a couple of friends from school. /I/ played Innovation and Discworld. Think there was some Bang going on but I stayed out of the -- Banging. For, uh, once." Tag sets the mop in a bucket and stretches. "If you're in a city and you have a laptop there's almost no such thing as not having Internet, but mine went caput a while ago--Philly was /wild/--and I still need a new library card. I wouldn't've offered if I wasn't /serious./" He gives Dusk a quick hug, dislodging most of his hair from the hair band. "About cleaning I mean, and I didn't actually think you were gonna say no whether I cleaned your place or not but I'm on a roll. And a triple espresso with like a metric ton of sugar. I was real sleepy when I went by Happy Cakes so Jayna made it for me." He sits down on a bean bag for a grand total of five seconds before bouncing back up to follow Jax , then stopping in his tracks because the floor is lava! "Oh hey can I also have some juice? Or water? Something water-y." Somewhere in the interim, his finger and toenails have become iridescent pink. "Man, I like Bang! And Discworld! Are you catching the blush plague, too?" Tag cocks his head at Dusk, his smile fey and lopsided. "Hopefully I'll find day job soon, not a fan of night job so far, it keeps me from gaming." "Wait, what's got Dusk all blushy?" Jax slants a quick glance towards Dusk, his smile brightening. He gets out two glasses instead of one, pouring both full of juice (white cranberry-peach, today) and sticking the bottle back in the fridge. He's already thirstily gulping at his even as he moves to the edge of the kitchen to give the other glass to Tag. "-- Oh gosh I could use some espresso." He pauses long enough to say that, then gulps down another quarter of his drink. "I like Discworld. Well... the books. Ain't tried the game actually. How /is/ the job goin', so far? Gaming aside." "Oh, I'm never going to have the blush plague quite as bad as /him/ or his -- partner, they're hopeless." Dusk flicks a wingtip towards Jax, a small twitch of smile on his face. "Yeah, how's it aside from the crappy schedule? You could," he suggests with a grin, "take one of /his/ jobs, he's got night jobs and day jobs and -- it's no /wonder/ you need the caffeine, dude." Tag is wandering around the living room with a static cloth, /bouncing/ while looking for things to dust. "What's so blush-making about Flicker's friends from school are they /hot/? Wait no if hot people made you blush you'd be doing it /all the time/ living in this building." He very deliberately stops bouncing when he accepts the juice. "Oh, thank you! Man, you probably need the caffeine more than I do, I don't go on shift again till nine, but sorry I drank it /all/, which was probably not the best idea." Tag shuts up long enough to take a gulp of juice. "The job is um...pretty uneventful? Lotta scanning and beeping. Gets sorta /surreal/ after a while." He chews on his lip and looks lost for a moment. Then suddenly he's grinning again. "But I'm super motivated to find another job, I'm sure it won't be as hard once my documents are sorted out, I don't hafta take anyone else's." "If they're anything like Flicker they're not hot they're probably like. Breathtaking." Jackson drains the rest of his glass, heading back to the fridge to immediately pour himself another. He downs half of the second with the same urgent thirst, only slowing for breath once the glass is half drained. The burning light spread over the floor fades away to nothing, and he moves back towards the doorway though he just slumps against a nearby cabinet rather than cross the threshhold. "I talked to some people. Can put y'in touch with them, work on gettin' you documents soon. An' you can always have /more/ caffeine," he adds with a bright grin, "before your shift starts. I'm -- due at school in an hour." His grin shifts to a grimace. "An' the studio after that an' Io come midnight." "Breathtaking and celibate," Dusk affirms, amused. "I'm starting to wonder if the Mormon church uses /looks/ as a qualification for their members. Just to tempt everyone over. Since I doubt any of them will marry me without converting." His sigh here is /so/ longsuffering. "-- Blush wasn't about Flicker's friends, though. Uh. What /is/ your job, I don't think I ever -- knew." Jax's schedule earns a frown, a small outstretch of wing to brush against Jax's arm. "-- Start at midnight? Doesn't that mean you get off at eight? Doesn't /school/ start at eight? When was, uh, the last time you slept, dude?" Tag finally comes to rest on an arm of the couch and sips his drink with both hands wrapped around the cup. "Thanks, Jax. Would they even need my /old/ documents? I mean, most of it is just /expired/, but some might actually be forged, and none of it is /right/ anyway. I could /definitely/ have more caffeine." He grows visibly brighter, and the rainbow vortex of his shirt /swirls/ almost imperceptibly. "Will probably need some to get through the job hunting, but after that should stop so I can sleep. I mean, caffeine is great, but you gotta sleep sometime--well, some more often than others, but you know..." The poor hair tie finally gives up and falls off. Tag sets down his drink and sets about gathering his hair back up. "It's inventory. Literally counting all the merchandise in a store, at night, after they close. Usually it's like an end-of-the-year thing, or like in this case, when a business gets bought; it's a smallish chain, so very short-term. I mean, the agency can find me other work, but this was all I qualified for at the time, and I'd rather not have to go back there if I can /avoid/ it." His hair starts fading to white from the tips up. "So. Yeah. Job-hunting. You know, I have seen no direct evidence of Jax sleeping. You'd have to ask Micah." "I mean -- if you want new /legit/ documents they'll need your old ones. If you don't actually care how legit they are --" Jax's smile is crooked. "Then nah." His eye settles, kind of /entranced/ on the shifting colours in Tag's shirt, perhaps more perceptible to /his/ eyesight than most. "You could paint. Houses. I think the Clinic's actually getting decorated /right now/, I bet Hive'd slip you in work there -- but that'd be crazy short-term, too. So not really solving the problem." He sips at his drink more slowly, eye still focused on Tag's shirt over the rim of his glass. "I -- slept on the weekend," he says, though he sounds not quite /certain/ of this. "I was gonna sleep last night but then there was -- I had a lot of homework to catch up on. An' I don't /think/ the Mormons require you be hot to join, I mean. You can be /born/ in an' I don't think they excommunicate you if y'don't grow up pretty enough. Though I don't know enough about Mormonism t'say for sure." "The /weekend/, Jesus Christ. You're gonna burn yourself the hell out, man." Dusk's expression shifts into a frown, his arms crossing over his chest. He shakes the frown away a moment later, forcing his features back into a more neutral arrangement. "That -- sounds boring as hell," he admits wryly. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for something better to turn up your way. /I'm/ going to ask Flicker about the hotness thing. Though maybe it's the opposite," he decides. "Maybe they excommunicated /him/ for being /too hot/." "Whoa, I could have my actual name on my ID!" Tag's eyes grow wide, as though he had never considered the possibility before. As soon as he finishes tying his hair back, the fringes work themselves loose and fall across his face. He bats at the frosted tips, frowning. " I /do/ paint houses. Just usually don't get /paid/ for it. I have gotten good at doing large areas, though, so I could definitely do it." He flops over backward onto the couch cushions, legs still dangling in the air. "For the clinic, I'd do it whether I got paid or not. I can find other work, and I don't care if it's boring, or if I don't get enough sleep." This with a glance at Jax. "That's something I should...you know, learn to do anyway." "Pfft, life's too short to slow down. I just shine brighter." Jackson's smile is crooked, his gaze finally tearing away from Tag's shirt to look down at the floor. With most of his juice finished he finally returns to the fridge, scrounging through it for leftovers and eventually coming up with a tub of sweet potato curry. "Anyone else want?" he offers, setting a pot on the stove to start reheating it. "An' you should do it for the clinic, /and/ you should get paid for it. I mean, I'm all about doin' favours in the right place, but -- also. Slowly. Startin' to learn the value of actually, uh, gettin' paid for my work." He says this with a slightly wry crinkle of his nose. "What, you mean your ID doesn't say 'Tag' on it?" Dusk's eyes widen in surprise. "-- Hey, food, I'm down." Though he says this with less a glance at Jax's pot of food and more a glance at Jax's /neck/. His wing stretches out, one side of it thwapping lightly against Tag's leg. "Oh no. Not you too. What the fuck is it with this apartment and people ignoring sleep? Sleep is /delicious/. You all need a steadier sleep-diet." "Oh, I'm not--" Tag physically slaps a hand across his mouth. Then his right hand pries the left hand away, Doctor Strangelove style. "Could I have just a tiny bit please?" He rolls the rest of his body up and over the couch, landing on his feet. 7/10! "It /is/ pretty cool to get paid to do stuff I actually /enjoy/, like decorating cakes for Hanna. I'll ask I guess? And Spence gets plenty of sleep." Picking up his glass, he drains it and trots to the kitchen sink with it, rubbernecking at the food on the stove as he passes it. "So do /I/, but I...wanna be /responsible/, even if that /does/ meant not sleeping as much. Oh, man I sound like my...um..." Hands rinse out the glass mechanically. "Yeah, I guess it would be kinda suspicious if my ID listed my name as just /Tag/. Probably should use my Chinese one." "Mmhmm." Jax tips the whole container of curry into the pot, turning the heat on beneath it. He moves to check the rice cooker next, peeking inside to gauge the level of rice still sitting warm on the counter. "Have a friend whose ID says 'Scramble' on it, she seems t'do fine." He sticks out his tongue at Dusk's fretting. "I live on sugar an' sunshine. Sleep ain't near as delicious as those." He tilts his head slightly to one side, watching the path of Dusk's gaze. "Seem like you could do with more'n just curry, honey-honey, when'd you last eat?" "Couple days," Dusk admits with a small grimace. He is drifting into the kitchen as well, a little closer to Jax to lean against the counter beside the stove. His wing unfurls, sharp thumb-claw brushing against the side of Jax's neck. "You've gotta go to work after this, though. -- Spence's sleep," he adds to Tag, "isn't /transferable/, he doesn't get to sleep enough to make up for the rest of you. You still doing cakes for Hanna? S'good to have real work you really /like/." "I thought there'd be some kinda of requirement for a surname or something. Though I guess no need to worry about that if it's not legit /anyway/." Tag brings a bottle of glass cleaner and a clean rag with him back out into the living room and starts on the windows. "Yeah, and also, sleep isn't always /that/ delicious. Just necessary? For most people. "It's not a /job/ job, just commission, but painting on food is /fun/, and Hanna and Jayna are so nice. I'd probably do it just for a cupcake and coffee..." "You're definitely not legally required to have a surname, Scramble's what she got her name changed to." Jax shrugs, closing his eye to lean in slightly to the touch of Dusk's claw, unbothered by or perhaps actually enjoying its sharpness. "Oh, that's alright," he adds softly to Dusk, "I got plenty'a energy in me. I won't hardly be bothered, you take some." He stirs at the pot on the stove slowly. "-- Sleep tastes pretty terrible to me." "They're nice," Dusk's agreement is quiet, "but I hate their bakery." He snorts at Tag's last statement, eyes flicking over towards Tag as his lips curve up into a thin smirk. "-- You probably /would/, wouldn't you? I'm starting to see why you have such a hard time paying rent steadily. Kinda need to balance being generous and being /practical/." His claw presses in a little bit harder when Jax leans in to it, its tip pricking briefly harder to let a small drop of blood well up from the tiny nick it leaves. The breath he draws in is slow, shivery; his wing curls around Jax as Dusk steps in closer, head dipping to close his lips against Jax's neck, tongue swiping the droplet of blood away. "Then Tag it'll be. No middle initial, no last name." There is a wistful note under the excitement in Tag's voice. "I don't think it's /generosity/, more like a short attention span or something." Windows done, he turns back toward the kitchen. "Also, money is like--oh!" He stops at the threshold to the kitchen and stares. His tongue darts out over his lips and he /starts/ to move away but seems to forget what he is doing mid-stride. When he speaks, it's in a soft falsetto. "Hey...is it OK if I watch I can just go over there if it's not..." One hand gestures vaguely in the direction of the mop. "Oh --" Jackson's breath shivers out in a seeming counterpoint to the one Dusk draws in, exhaled shakily as Dusk's mouth touches to him. "Oh are we -- Dusk, we should go to -- my --" But this trails off with Tag's words, head tilting slightly to the side and his arm curling around Dusk's waist. His other hand gropes blindly for a moment at the stove, turning the flame down to its lowest setting. "-- Short attention span," he agrees with a small glimmer of amusement, at Tag's derailed thought. "Yes. If you want -- to -- s'more than. OK. Stay." His gaze shifts over Dusk's shoulder, out to fix on Tag's face for a moment. Dusk's wing curls further around Jackson, a fuzzy-soft but strongly bracing support that holds the other man snug against him. "-- There's a first aid kit in either bathroom, do you mind grabbing one?" he asks Tag. He sucks briefly harder at Jax's neck, a soft growl in his throat with the second drop of blood that wells forth. "But yes. Stay. Watch. I have a feeling he'll like that." His hand curls against the back of Jax's neck, pushing the slim collar down to the base of Jax's throat. His thumb traces slowly up the length of the vein there, and his lips press to Jax's neck in a soft kiss. "Take a deep breath." "Yeah...I-I mean, no I don't mind." Tag doesn't even finish his reply before dashing off. He returns with a kit in short order--he must have known exactly where it was--and leaves it open on the counter within Dusk's reach. Retreating into the doorway, he rests against the door frame, skinny arms wrapped around skinny torso, dark brown eyes wide. "Mmm." It's kind of a whimper and kind of a moan, soft and muffled in wordless agreement when Dusk mentions that Jax might /like/ Tag's presence. His body sinks in against Dusk's, and he opens his eye again, watching Tag over Dusk's shoulder as he takes in a deep breath. Lets it out again slowly, and holds on to Dusk tighter.