ArchivedLogs:Before Dawn

Before Dawn
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Shane	Saturday, 2 May, 2015 Part of the Future Past TP.
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
It is an ungodly-early hour in the morning. Pretty much stupid o'clock. The city is waking up slowly but Shane looks /disturbingly/ bright-eyed given the fact the sun hasn't quite gotten up yet and his coffeeshop won't be open for a good hour yet -- possibly more disturbing given that he /closed/ the club last night. Possibly the staying-up-all-night thing can /explain/ the wide-awakeness given that he's coming at this /sunrise/ thing the wrong way 'round. Working in a caffeine dispensary probably also helps with this. Shane has gotten /himself/ a Ridiculously Large cup of coffee that he's working his way through as he goes through all the routine portions of cafe opening, checking the thermostat, the music, pulling chairs down off of tables, starting coffee brewing, filling carafes of milk, checking the drink station for adequate additives. He's dressed in slacks, neat button-down, deep red vest, slightly more rumpled than if he were just starting his day. Tap? Tap tap tap? There's a quiet tapping at the front door, no matter the whole not-open-yet thing. Tap tap tap. Jax is outside, brightly dressed in lime-green cargo capris with black geometric embroidered designs up the legs, shiny purple Doc Martens, a black corset-like tank, a little lacy, embroidered as well in /shinier/ black vinework, a chunky colour-blocked rainbow sweatshirt. Dark glasses, black nailpolish with purple paint-splatter design overlaid. He is pulling a tall-narrow city shopping cart behind him, and there's a large portfolio bag slung over his shoulder. Taptaptap? Not-open-yet be damned; Shane's grimaces at the tapping but his face lights in a toothy grin when he sees /who/ is outside the door. He sets his coffee down on the counter, trotting over to throw the locks and let Jax inside, scooting out to relieve the other man of the cart and pull it in as well. He shuts the door with its closed-sign still up but doesn't bother to lock it again once Jax is in, peering curiously into the cart. "What'cha got for me?" "What, m'love ain't enough?" Jax's smile is lopsided, warm amusement in his voice. "The pleasure of my company? Big g'mornin' hug?" His cart has a few stacked boxes, though, neatly labeled with names and ingredients. Espresso-chocolate chip muffins in one, blueberry muffins in a second, oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookies in a third. "I was restless s'mornin'," he explains easily enough, slipping further in to set his bag down on an empty armchair and meander over to /steal/ the coffee off the counter, taking a large gulp. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, man, you have a /problem/. Restless this morning? This was like half the night." Shane drags the cart further into the room, unloading its contents onto the counter. He moves over behind Jax once the boxes are unloaded, SQUEEZING tight in a brief-fierce hug before slipping around /behind/ the counter so that he can start adding Jax's offerings to the day's display case. "S'okay," Jax answers lightly, leaning back into the hug. "It was the worse half'a the night anyhow. Bit'a bakin' livened it right up." He sets Shane's coffee back down, leaning in against the counter to fold his arms atop it, weight slumping down onto his forearms. "You /are/ gonna get some sleep 'fore tonight, though?" "Tonight?" Shane's tone is innocently oblivious. "Naw I was just gonna take shift here till afternoon then crash till tomorrow it was time for my club-shift, why? I'm not supposed to be aywhere important tonight or anything anyway?" His eyes are so-big-wide as he looks up at Jax. Jax's brows raise as he looks up, a brief look of dismay crossing what can be seen of his expression behind the large sunglasses. "I thought y'all was gonna come t'--" "Oh my god," Shane cuts in with a quick laugh, "don't freak out, I'm just fucking with you. I'll /be/ at your opening I'll even," he says brightly, "look /totally swanky/ you better bring your A-game or I'll be showing you /up/." Though his brows do rumple in a quick frown afterwards that he pushes back in favour of a more /forcibly/ casual tone to wonder, "... there's gonna be security, right?" "You /always/ look swanky." Jax's sudden-heaved sigh of relief is quite noticeable, posture going from tense back to relaxed in the space of a breath. He wrinkles up his nose at the question of security, tipping his head down to study his toes. "S'funny, Jane wants t'send some'a /our/ guards along? Which is hilarious, y'know, /I/ get paid t'bodyguard Io but then when /I'm/ out doin' my thing she thinks /I/ need a detail now? Which is kinda. Silly a little." Micah follows up a ways behind Jax with a leashed Obie as opposed to piles of baked goods. He is dressed in a simple charcoal grey newsboy cap, a black T-shirt with Flutterbat in front of a pale blue moon on it, rainbow-patchy jeans, and sneakers. His hair is mussed-ly sticking out from under the hat as if he hadn't really bothered to do much with it when he woke up. Pausing at the door to decide whether to open it or knock, he eventually pushes his way in. He keeps the dog on a short leash and stops again to spritz hand sanitser on his hands as he glances around to see where folks are. "'Mornin'." "... until you look at all the death threats?" Shane's brows raise on this, and though his tone is casual still there's something in his pointed look at Jax that really isn't. "It makes sense, when you're -- just doing your /thing/ you shouldn't have to be on high alert all the time. And with all this registration crap --" His head pokes up from behind the display case when Micah enters, peering out from where he's been arranging the day's pastry selections. "Oh and you brought me a puppy. I'm just /swimming/ in loot today." Jax is leaning up against the counter being totally unhelpful, just /watching/ Shane with the baked goods. He scoops Shane's coffee back off the counter, offering it out to Micah. "S'just plain black though," he says this like a /dire warning/. /Actual/ coffee, not the coffee-flavoured /syrup/ it usually is by the time /he's/ done sweetening his own. "OK, people on the internet froth at the mouth about /everything/ though. It's just an art show. People sip wine an' try an' out-snooty each other." "Oh, you guys must be talkin' 'bout the show," Micah infers from the mention of death threats, nose crinkling slightly. "Also, apparently you're loot now, Obie. Congrats, pup." He takes the coffee, only sipping a small amount from it. "Um...honey? Y'remember what happened the last time we got lotsa death threats, right? /Most/ of 'em are crazies that don't mean t'do anythin'. But...there's folks. As'll actually /do/ things. Could it /hurt/ t'have a /little/ extra security?" "Yeah, I mean, okay, so you blow up a few art critics the world's not going to feel much loss but how many freaking hours of work are going to be hanging on those walls?" Shane's sharp smile is -- probably not serious? Probably? "And if Jane's gonna send people your way for /free/ you might as well take 'em. Private security is expensive. -- /I/ was thinking of buying a piece," he admits brightly, "and putting it up here but, only, with all the work of yours that's been up here before people would probably just keep trying to buy it /from/ me." "Mmhmm." Jax tips his head in acknowledgment of Micah's inferrence. He takes the cup back, swallowing another large mouthful and setting it back on the counter. "Oh, don't worry, I'm gonna let her. I jus' -- think there's better places to do terrorisms. But I ain't gonna say no t'extra eyes watchin' out anyway. /I'm/ gonna be too busy frettin' about the media-folk t'be all /constant vigilance/ like m'supposed to." His cheeks flush slightly darker, head turning to look at the walls -- still very art-laden! Though at the moment it's a local mutant photographer whose work is hanging up for sale. "Y'could buy somethin' anyway jus' so I don't feel bad when nobody does. Then sell it here for higher." "I don't know as they'd be lookin' t'take out art critics so much as the art an' the /artist/, maybe." Frowning slightly, Micah crouches to scritch at Obie's ears. "Y'can always put a little 'not for sale' label on along with the title an' about-the-artist bit for any pieces y'got but don't wanna sell." He relaxes when Jax says he's going to let Jane add security. "Somebody's gonna buy things, honey. On /top/ of your work bein' good, there's 'controversy' 'bout this. People like controversial art things." "I /could/ buy it anyway," Shane agrees, "but then you'll just look at all the /crazy amounts/ of shit you're gonna sell and write it off in your mind 'cuz your /family/ bought /one/ piece so now none of it counts. Besides I already sponsor you on Patreon." He straightens, closing the display case and leaning up against his side of the counter. "But I'll creep in and buy one next week when you're not looking. -- D'you want a muffin, Ba? Pa baked instead of sleeping again." "I slept!" Jax's cheeks are deep crimson, now; he claps his hands to the side of his face. "... for an hour. And you're one to talk have you even left here all night?" He draws in a deep breath, his smile crooked as his weight fidgets from one leg to the other. "Okay-okay. I'll stop fretting all day. I'll /try/ to stop fretting all day. Maybe," he allows sheepishly, "I should sleep more." His head turns, sunglass-covered gaze turning out towards the front door. "Kinda a shame it /is/ a controversy, though. I don't think none'a /us/ find it controversial. I jus' painted things how they is. World declared war on freaks a long time ago. People jus' don't really like t'think about it." Micah shakes his head and chuckles at Shane's assessment. "I /know/ he wasn't in bed long." There might be a tiny hint of reproach in his tone. "Also, there's muffins at home, y'keep these ones for sellin'." Micah stands back up, gesturing vaguely at the display. "Yeah, it...I wouldn't think it should be controversial, it's just that...that's how it's bein' perceived." His eyebrows lift at the mention of more sleep. "Oh, are we gonna have a nap? I like naps." "I think the media is /choosing/ to interpret it the other way around. Like you're declaring war on everyone /else/? I mean you're a crazy anarchist that's what you /do/, right?" Shane swipes his coffee back, finally, stifling a yawn before he takes a sip. "I didn't leave," he admits, "but I did nap on the couch." And in a similar (sheepish) echo to Jax, "... for an hour. Uhm. But I'm only going to be here till sevenish then Aly's coming and I'm going to go home and crawl into Dai's bed and not move for -- until getting ready for tonight." "It /is/ what we crazy anarchists do," Jax agrees cheerfully. "Jus' watch the world burn. I think it'll be clear enough when they /see/ the pieces that the context /so/ ain't --" He hesitates, reconsiders. "... OK, there's a couple that's a little militant." His blush is not really receding. He steps forward, curling an arm around Micah's waist. "Nap might be in the cards. S'it come with snuggles?" "Well, clearly they are. S'just...sensationalisin' things the way they do." Micah grins, lips tugging lopsided. "Sounds like /everybody's/ due a nap. Should be a pleasant mornin'." He nuzzles against Jax's neck, even sneaking a light kiss in there. "Of course snuggles. S'there any other kind?" "Just make sure you two don't use up all the snuggles. I'll be pissed as hell if I get home and find the whole place is fresh out." Shane gulps down the rest of his coffee, and slumps forward against the counter, arms folding there and his head dropping to rest in them. "You want to flip the open sign for me on the way out? The door's. Like. A million /miles/ away." "I'm /pretty/ sure Dai produces new snuggles for you on a fairly constant basis." Jax's head tips slightly to one side, his quiet breath warm-pleased at the small kiss. He weaves around to Micah's other side so as not to tangle himself in Obie's /leash/ while walking, and tucks his arm through his husband's, folding up his empty grocery cart to wheel that with his other hand. "Mmhm. You /don't/ hardly look like y'could find your way there an' back. -- An' sure there's other kinds, could be cuddles instead." "Ain't gonna use up no snuggles. Snuggles s'a reusable resource," Micah asserts, grin widening. He tucks in close to Jax when the other man puts his arm though his own. "We got it, sugar." He nudges his head into Jax's shoulder before they head out. "Snuggles /an'/ cuddles I think, if that won't be too much excitement an' keep y'from sleepin'." "Kind've a perfect sort of excitement to start the day, though." Shane doesn't move from where he slumps against the counter. But he does turn his head so his face is more visible again, a warm smile seeing his fathers out.