Logs:Trustworthy Sort

Trustworthy Sort
Dramatis Personae Jax, Mercury, Steve	2020-06-22 "I promise not to bite your head off for daring to come into my home, invited." (After cops raid Hellhound Bikes; followed by getting food.)
Location <NYC> Mercury's Apartment - Lower East Side
Mercury’s apartment was small, but clearly loved, even in the limited time she’d had in New York so far. It was a studio, with a breakfast counter adjacent to a modest kitchenette opposing a surprisingly large navy blue velvet couch, which in turn faced a decent television, positioned to also be in sight of her bed. The bed was unmade and messy, a queen with dark blue sheets and too many pillows. That, and the desk next to it, were black metal, and the bed had four simple posters that joined together in a frame at the top. She’d taken the time to line it with thin curtains, giving it a slightly dramatic, luxurious feel, accented by the black skull candle holder atop her sleek bedside table. The desk next to her bed, however, was an entirely different matter. It was practically stacked with monitors, plugged into an impressive computer tower, and any place not taken up with tech was absolutely swarmed with papers. Behind it stood a whiteboard and bookcase, similarly disorganised and chaotic, the entire corner of her studio monopolised with cluttered work. “Sorry, looks like shit. Didn’t expect guests,” She offers, weakly “Kettles in the kitchen, camomile is in the cupboard. Would you mind very much? Have whatever you want, if you want anything.” It wasn’t particularly pretty how she shuffled to her closet, nearly completely hidden by a particularly large stack of books. She finished out some clothes and retreated to the bathroom, clearly intending to change. “And don’t escape just yet, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d like to chat.” Jax has been hanging slightly awkwardly in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets as he hovers on the verge of heading back out. He relaxes slightly at the actual direction, bobbing his head and heading into the kitchen. "I'm -- good," he replies lightly, filling the kettle with water and putting it on before searching the cupboard for mugs. "Uh -- chat? Did you need somethin' else? Sure you still don't need no food or nothin', it's been a long day, there are some good places 'round here that deliver." Hovering just as awkwardly beside Jax, Steve looks little worse for the long journey up from the Hole. He blushes when Mercury goes to select her clothes, and looks very relieved when she ducks into the bathroom. Crossing the room, he checks the window before coming to rest against the breakfast counter. "Are you going to need more medical care? Or is this just something that some rest will handle?" She popped out of the bathroom donning pink pyjamas. If they knew anything about pjs, which she most certainly did, they’d recognise they were Peter Alexander, although they were a bit threadbare and well-loved. Mercifully it seems as though she kept the sports bra. “You two look absolutely petrified. I promise not to bite your head off for daring to come into my home, invited.” She makes her way to the counter, wincing slightly as she knocked her hip against the corner, body already sore. “I probably should. But I don’t trust the clinic. I’ll wait it out. Normally passes in a few days. I’ll try and eat... later. At some point. I’d just throw it up if I ate today.” Her head was pounding, she rubbed her temples. “I’m in too much pain to be polite, sorry. You’re Steve Rodgers- I’m sort off...” She flushes, although it’s very difficult to tell, bringing her hand over her eyes, “A fan, I suppose. I’ve been meaning to meet you, shame it was in a tricky situation. But to cut a long story short...” She pinches the bridge of her nose, concentrating on not giving in to the pain, “I’m in New York to make this not happen, and I think you may be the only person I even remotely begin to trust. Given that... I wonder if you might give some advice?” "I -- didn't really think you was gonna bite." Jax's voice is quiet. Even indoors, he has still not removed his oversized star-framed sunglasses. "Do you mean Mendel? You had bad experiences there?" He's retrieved the tea and a mug, prepping both and setting the mug on the counter. Leaning up against it as he waits for the water to boil, his palms bracing lightly back against the counter's edge. "Only person you trust? You might be a fan of Captain America, but you only just met Steve." His quiet voice hasn't really shifted in tone. The corner of his mouth, does hitch slightly up at Mercury's question. His head turns slightly towards Steve, expectant. Steve has not moved from his spot, though he does blush and avert his eyes when Mercury emerges in her sleepwear. "I -- wouldn't say I'm petrified," he replies lightly. "You needn't worry so much about polite, Miss -- I wouldn't require that of anyone who was so ill even if I were a stickler about it the rest of the time." His brows gather in perplexity, and he glances at Jax helplessly. "I'm afraid you may have been misled, though. I'm not a mutant, and my powers have never made me ill -- quite the opposite." He starts to look back up at Mercury, then looks past her to fix his gaze stubbornly on the kettle instead. "I surely do wish to see you safe and in good care, but I don't see how I can advise you there." “Mendel? No. But I still don’t trust it. And you’re right, of course, I know barely anything about Mr. Rodgers here, unfortunately.” She acknowledges Jax’s point, giving Steve a tired smile. “But... well...” She struggled to find the right words, “I guess it comes back to why I came to New York.” “Truthfully, around six months ago I suffered quite a serious assault, and pushed my powers too far. Along with the injuries I sustained from the beating I also suffered a heart attack from over-exertion. I spent months recovering, furious at how... weak I was. Still am.” She stated it as a fact, but there was a tinge of longing in her tone, “So I threw myself over here, to the mutant capital of the world. But...” She seems frustrated, rubbing her eyes, “It’s difficult. I don’t trust anyone, not at all.” “So.” She continued, matter-of-factly, “I have an inkling that you are a trustworthy sort. Frankly that puts you a cut above the rest- and even if you’ve never struggled because of your powers, it’s more who you might know who you trust in, who may be able to... direct me. I’m tired of this. It seems like... every else like me hasn’t got the same issues.” Her brows furrowed, angry at herself, angry at her situation. “Needless to say it’s up to you if you give me any advice at all. The only repercussion for not is that I might throw away my poster of you. Which would be a damn shame.” There’s a point in anxiety where you have reached the end of your ability to be nervous, where the fear becomes so intense that it flips and becomes a bizarre confidence. With the pain, and fear, the tension, it seemed like she had, not for the first time, reached that point again. Jax tips his head down, thumbs hooking into the pockets of his shortalls. His teeth press against his lower lip, clicking lightly against one of his lip rings and wiggling it slowly. The breath he lets out when the kettle starts to whistle is soft and slightly relieved, shoulders easing; he doesn't bother with any kind of potholder when he moves to pick it up and fill the mug. Sets a timer on his phone. Leans back against the counter again. Steve bites his lower lip. "I'm truly sorry that happened. And I know it can be hard to -- trust people. To connect again, after you've been through trauma." The cadence of his speech is a little odd, here, but his voice is gentle. "Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, and I'm honored you trusted me with that. But the only advice I can in good conscience give you is to put that trust in other mutants. People who know what resources can be trusted. People who can understand what you're going through, who --" His breath hitches suddenly, and he shakes his head, looking down again. "I can't do those things." His voice goes softer, his expression pained. "I'd be doing you a grave disservice if I tried, especially if by so doing I kept you from accepting help from those you actually need in your life." He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out for a moment. Then, "I think I had better -- let you rest." “To be honest, it’s not so much that I began to distrust people after that. I just haven’t...” She shrugs, considering, “Longer than that, at least. And I’m horrible at reading people, I can never tell when they’re being genuine.” “I don’t require or want understanding, or sympathy. I’m choosing to push myself.” She stiffened, slightly defensive, “But do you know anyone who might be able to understand why this is happening? If it strikes you later, feel free to text me. Again, apologies for being blunt, but I came here for a purpose, that I intend to achieve.” Her tone was clipped and clinical, but she mirrored Steve’s softness. “And, well, I just happen respect you quite a bit.” She finally admitted, coldness cracking, a sort of shyness coming across, “So I figured I’d ask you first.” “That isn’t to say, of course, that I have no interest in anyone else. And firstly I’d like to apologise, especially to you, Jax, for overreacting and causing more trouble then there might have been. I’d never seen those... things before. It was a bit of a shock.” She confessed, annoyed at herself, “Truthfully I did come to buy a bike... but I’ve also been trying to meet lots of different mutants, to see if anyone has anything like me. Apologies for the... misdirection, I’ve been trying to be careful.” She seemed to wilt slightly, uncertain, “I’d understand if you don’t want to share... but, the orbs you made... looked very familiar.” She would not allow herself to be one bitten, twice shy. Never again. Awkwardness, pain, and mistakes were inevitable, that wasn’t a good reason to shut down completely. Mercury was determined to understand. "I don't think it's quite anyone's fault for not keeping their cool when the cops shove guns or -- horrifying spider robots in your face." Jax pushes himself up from the counter, tapping at his phone and tucking it back in a pocket. "I think --" He hesitates, picking up the mug and cradling it in very faintly glowing hands. "That it's been a real long night already, and I know we gotta eat again. But I really do hope that you find folks you feel comfortable talking with. Ones you can know for real. There are a lotta us out here." He sets the mug back down, close to Mercury's side. "Careful, s'hot. I hope some rest do you good. -- C'mon, sugar." This last comes with a light touches of fingers to Steve's elbow, a small nod towards the door. Steve has not moved. Looks down, practically at her shoes, then forces himself to look back up. Meets Mercury's glowing eyes. "That's even harder, and I can't even imagine, myself. I hope that you find the healing you need, whether or not it's anything to do with your mutation at all." He chews on his lower lip. Glances sidelong at Jax. "Wish I could do better by you." He lets Jax draw him along easily despite his immense strength and not inconsiderable bulk, and opens the door for his friend. Turning back to Mercury as he exits, he gives one polite nod, "Rest well, Miss." “Maybe.” She acquiesced to Jax, “Honestly it just makes me more pissed off wasting my time with a migraine, but thanks nonetheless.” She took the tea. For a flash she wondered if it was wise allowing these people into her house, surely they knew how strange she was now- how out of touch. It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of it. Only time would tell. “Lock the door on the way out, please.” Once they’d left, she’d considered the day, commanding Alexa to turn off all the light and drinking her tea in her own soft glow. Was Jax dodging the question because of her illness? Or because he didn’t want to answer? Did Steve think she was a complete weirdo now? I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t like the idea of Captain America disliking her. It would be infuriating, frustrating, to spend the next few days trapped in her apartment with her thoughts. She hoped it would be the last time.