ArchivedLogs:Being Visible

Being Visible
Dramatis Personae Nox, Micah	16 March 2013 Nox pays Micah a visit.
Location <NYC> East Village
Winter has decided to make one last push for supremacy. A light snow falls from the skies, dusting the city below with white powder and making for a pretty, albeit chilly, effect. With the temperature rapidly falling in the dark, the streets are not quite as busy as they would normally be on this St. Patrick's Day weekend--though revelers are stubbornly making their way from homes in the Village to venture off to their favorite party spots. Look, there is a fellow who's died his hair and beard green, and a young woman who has one-upped him by having /green skin/! Maybe it's natural, maybe it's dye, but this is one of those rare occasions where people might just not care. Not everyone is in a mood to hide from the weather /or/ party, though. Nox might be healed of her recent encounter in the sewers but she is still Troubled, with a capital T. Having seen the state of Jax's apartment and knowing full well the sort of people the refugees are hiding from, she has opted to keep a close eye on the building. Fortunately, the cold doesn't bother her and she is an /excellent/ sentry. Nothing escapes her. Including the rather colorful van spied parked down the street. When her patrolling leads her by the van, the shadow that she is--skimming along in the gutter, because gutter ick doesn't trouble shadows--draws up short. She knows this van. She knows this van's owner. And as wonderful as she is at sentrying, she has been meaning to check in with Micah, which is why the rear windows suddenly darken as she lifts to press herself to them and peek inside. Micah is holed away in the back of his van today, singing along with Steve Tyler on the radio, somewhere in the chorus of “Crazy”. Well, singing isn’t his actual /purpose/ for hanging around in the back of the van. He is fitting thick, soft cloth padding to the inside of a dynamic hip orthosis, which looks kind of like a swingy mess of white plastic loops and steel uprights. His attention is entirely absorbed on the work in his hands until…it becomes somewhat harder to see. Blinkblink. Micah sets the materials aside, moving to inspect the source of the darkness. Perhaps a more serious storm’s on the way, ugh. It isn't creepy if Nox observes for a moment, is it? Okay, so it probably is. But that tangle of plastic and steel is interesting, and there's something about watching someone who truly loves what they're doing...okay, no, still creepy. The sudden tint in the window fades as she draws back when he /realizes/ something is amiss. Oh dear, oh dear, how to fix this. The snap judgment is made to adopt her body so that her outline is visible when his face appears in the window. One hand is sheepishly lifted in a hail. If he looks closely, he might realize she's not entirely there--the snowflakes that continue to fall are falling /through/ her, turning grey as they drift through the gloom. Micah continues blinking at the window for a moment, before realisation dawns across his features. His eyes go wide. Oh! Nox! He starts fussing at the handle of the van’s rear door, barely remembering to wave Nox away from the window so that he doesn’t whack her with it. Micah jumps down through the door once it swings open. He is clad in patched jeans and an olive T-shirt with a Darwin-inspired sketch of finches on it…but with ‘adaptive upgrades’ like laser eyes and jetpacks. “Nox!” Micah is sort of /bouncing/ on his feet as soon as he hits the ground, and looks like he might /pounce/. “Are you okay? Ohgosh, I read all these things in the paper and I didn’t know how to check on you and… Are hugs okay?” This last is meant to explain his pouncey-posture. At least he remembered to ask. Drifting backwards is easy when one can literally drift. Nox flows back to make room for the door, ducking her head to complete the impression of sheepishness as Micah launches himself from the back of the van. "Hello, Micah, I--" Oh but he's talking so /fast/. Quiet as she is, there's no keeping up or drowning out--she simply hums while he wriggles and hops before her. And like that, he succeeds in turning the mood. It /must/ be a mutation. "I am okay," she confirms when he's fallen silent. Her arms lift and swirly black fades into dull grey to make the hug a possible thing, inviting it without the need for words. It also brings her smile into focus, and the shine of those dark eyes. "I am so sorry to have worried you. It has been...a very eventful week. You're well?" “Ohhh, I am /so/ glad,” Micah fairly /sighs/ this out when Nox announces that she is okay. And he completes the pounce-in-progress to hug her once she’s more solid. “I couldn’t believe the things they were sayin’ about you. I felt like harassin’ all the journalists ‘cause the Devil’d need longjohns at /home/ before you’d even /think/ of hurtin’ kids. But I didn’t say anythin’ to anyone or even try to leave a message at Evolve ‘cause I thought prob’ly you were hidin’ and… Ohgosh!” He suddenly looks very worried again, and has yet to recall that he should probably /let go/ of Nox at some point. “D’you need to not be outside? Should we go somewhere? D’you need help?” He finally pauses to let her get a word in edgewise. Given the topic under consideration, it might seem a strange thing that Nox /hums/ through all of this talking. Then again, anyone who knows Micah understand. Her amusement buzzes against him, full-body, as she's caught up in that hug and winds her own velvet arms around his neck. "I have had reason to regret being unable to carry a phone, it is true," she murmurs when he draws back enough to allow talking. "Could we? Go inside? They still wish to question me though they know who did it and there are...there are complications." Micah is distracted for a moment making /cute’d/-face at Nox’s hum-laughing. Because it was adorable enough /before/ it was buzzy! Nox’s request for a location change is what gets through at last. “Oh! Oh, yes. It’s um…crowded back here. But I have seats!” He has to release Nox at this point to shove the rear door of the van closed with a bang. “Here,” he directs softly, resting a hand about where Nox’s shoulderblade would be to guide her to the passenger door. Micah pulls said door open for her once they reach it. "I saw. So many...things." Nox is sure they're all very useful and necessary things! But she is a little embarrassed to having to confess to the previous spying. It leads to more head-ducking, and an almost meek passage towards the proper seat under his guidance. Of course, she could simply curl up on the floor, or up in a corner, but when a chair is offered she can't help but accept it--manners. They are important. So up she goes, all very prim and proper as she settles feather-light on the upholstery and looks up and around to study the cab. "It is a very nice van," she says, in the same tone one would use to compliment a person's home. "Very much you. Is this where you made my flower?" Micah chuckles softly. “I’ve got gadgets and gizmos aplenty,” he quotes, jokingly, not actually singing the line. “Oh, thank you! That’s what I keep tellin’ people when they get all concerned about me stayin’ here.” His smile at this is wide and warm for the compliment, and his hand is kind of patting at the door. “Her name is Lucille.” The mention of the flower brings a faint blush to his cheeks. “Yes. Mostly that was in the back with all of the things, though.” Micah looks over Nox to ensure that she is clear of the door. “Beg pardon, I’m gonna close you in and head ‘round the other side.” He bows his head a moment before acting on those intentions. Micah goes bobbing by in front of the windshield, then hops into the driver’s side, wiggling into the seat. Such a gentleman. Nox's humming shifts to something a little more focused--like the next few bars of that song--while he scoots around to the other side. Her head turns; she's tracking him. Comments are reserved for when he has himself settled, while she sits neatly with her hands folded in the flat of her lap. "I think other people have different things to compare it to. This van, their homes. It is as comfortable as my home." She pauses for a beat. "You know, it is very much like a miracle that a few minutes with you can make me forget the...the everything." It's true, Nox is censoring, but that's another part of the effect! She /wants/ to keep this smile. This sense of near-normalcy. "Why did you name your van Lucille?" “It really has most of what I need for the short periods of time that I’m just /home/ or /workin’/, y’know? Biggest inconvenience tends to be, like, havin’ to go to the gym to use the shower. Wouldn’t mind a real kitchen, though.” Micah is musing without any hint of complaint. He shifts to sitting sort of on his right hip, to better face Nox for conversation. “Oh, ha, there’s this character on a TV show I watched a bit who is /incredibly/ adorable and has this ultrageekvan he named Lucille. It seemed a very good name for a van, so I stole it. Shamelessly.” His fingers comb through his hair, actually managing to leave it less mussed when they are done. He hates to bring up /stressful/ topics, but needs to know… “Did you…need help with anything? Someone to go with you to speak with the authorities, uh, if you’re gonna do that?” Micah sounds like he isn’t sure whether that’s such a good idea. Oh, /good/. When Micah turns to sit improperly, Nox takes it as a sign that she may do so as well. She goes all drifty again, rearranging her limbs in a swirl that leaves her facing him with her knees poking out. The left one, up against the upholstery, doesn't rest against the seat so much as follow it on up, turned 2D to accommodate the space. "You are very adorable and have an ultrageekvan," she says solemnly--a hint of hum to the words, "so I think it was your name to take." She might have reached out then to reorder his hair but stressful topics do distract and she's left ducking her chin down instead. "I...it is...mm." A longer silence ensues while thoughts are ordered. "I was going to. I told Jax I would. Tatters has. But I...I changed my mind. If they put me in a cell, I would panic. If...if the wrong people saw me in the paper and were waiting for me to come...if they asked for me, or took me again..." Micah grins at Nox’s unique method of rearrangement. “I suppose it’s not a theft that anyone’s to mind, after all…” He drapes a forearm over the seat’s armrest. “If you truly want to /talk/ and not /be/ where someone might threaten you… I wonder if y’could /teleconference/ with the police? I don’t think that’s a thing that is /usually/ done, but what about any of this is /usual/?” "Teleconference?" It takes Nox a moment to follow but when she does, she touches her hand to her face as if embarrassed. "You mean call them. Of course. Perhaps even on a computer," she says in the tone of someone who has been recently introduced to this concept and found it novel. If she was embarrassed, it's short-lived because there is another light hum. "That is another reason I rarely speak on the phone. It can be difficult to hear me. But...but it is possible. An option." And Micah's reward for thinking of it is another smile. A small one, but genuine. "A lawyer...a lawyer gave me her card. She said if I do go in, I am to have them call her. It is all so...frightening. The attention." Oh! Look at Nox trying to be all technically literate! /Trying/ is so adorable. “That could be an option. They might even have the resources at the law office for you to initiate contact from there. Let the lawyer be the go-between and point of contact, both, so no one needs to come lookin’ for you. And you could be provided with a microphone, to pick up what you have to say better…” Micah trails off, watching Nox’s expressions. “Just thoughts, if you wanted to go through with it. I’m not sayin’ as you /should/. I’m really not sure the best way to get offa a ‘person of interest’ list.” "There is no off of this list." A sobering thought. Nox's arm lowers to curl against the arm rest, focus for her gaze. She's solid enough that it's visible the way her brows draw together. "But yes. The lawyer. Have the lawyer do it. Perhaps that is best. Someone...told me. That it is possibly better. To be visible. Visible is harder to make disappear." She looks up then, head turned to study the back before shifting back towards Micah. An effort is made to put her smile back in place, signaling an equal effort at changing the subject. "How is it that you were gifted with both intelligence and adorable? It seems most unfair." Micah reaches over to squeeze Nox’s hand reassuringly. “The best thing we have goin’ is that they /found/ the person responsible. So they have someone to point the finger at…decreases the chances of this becomin’ a complete witchhunt.” He offers a little, somewhat sad smile at Nox’s mention of disappearing. “It is good…to have people who would notice if you went missin’. Folks to check in regular, y’know?” Then…ah…two compliments in one! The faint blush from before deepens and seeps up to his ears. Nox folds her other hand over his, catching it between cool and cool. Micah's fingers are given a light press. "I should find a better way of remaining in touch, then. Something that I can't lose, when I am myself." The odds of that sort of discovery are relatively slim and earn a matching smile--a smile that deepens when she succeeds in winning a blush. "You see? Adorable," she confides with yes, more humming. It's unfortunate that the only way to seem to keep him away from the serious is to make him squirm. Case in point: "You said we. The best thing we have going." Nox taking Micah’s hand wins her a deeper blush, still. “Everythin’ I could think of would still be /solid/, no matter how small it was.” He crinkles his nose at his inability to come up with a good idea for a device that Nox could carry while being…well, incorporeal. Oh, she caught that pronoun, did she? “Well, it’s just. If you need help…I… I could try, whatever I might be able. If you need a character witness. Or an alibi for some time I was with you. Or…whatever…things.” He’s about at that point where more blushing isn’t an option. Finally, Nox has the opportunity to reach up and let her fingers drift over his hair. While there might not be a real possibility of bringing order to it, she can smooth it down. A little. "It would be in poor taste to tease you now about having a body I need to bury, mm?" This...this is what counts as humor underground? Maybe it's a Morlock-style joke, whispered in her gentle voice. "If you had told me even three months ago that I would have a friend such as you above the streets, I would not have believed," she tells him on a more serious note. "Thank you, Micah." Micah leans instinctively toward that touch, catlike. “Can’t say as I know much about corpse disposal,” he razzes back, arching his brows slightly. The colour to his features is going nowhere any time soon… “Oh, dear, no. Never think you need to /thank/ me for just bein’ your friend… I… It’s like any other… I mean, I enjoy your company. And I’m happy when you are happy. And I don’t want to see you troubled.” There are two types in the world, those who enjoy being petted and those who enjoy petting. Once started, and encouraged, Nox doesn't stop. Maybe she /will/ bring his hair to order. "I always thank my friends. None of them accept it but I do it anyway. Better that what should be said /is/ said, before there's no chance to say it, mm?" She smiles, eyes lifting to watch the locks of his hair smooth under her fingers. "I think very few people could succeed in being troubled around you. What were you going to say, though? It's like any other...?" Oh, hair stroking is nice. His head nods against her hand, eyes closing for a moment, a little pleasant sound barely audible from the back of his throat. Her question is what finally flits his eyelids back open, hazel eyes seeking hers. “It’s like any other friendship would be, I meant. You shouldn’t feel any less…/worthy/ of friendship just because--” he completes his sentence with a gesture of his hand that sweeps to indicate her form. “You are a beautiful person. Bein’ a little foggy don’t change that any.” "A /little/ foggy." Properly stressing words when one is reduced to whispering is difficult but Nox manages, making her own thrumming sound of amusement. Her fingers sort the hair over his ears, brushing it back. "I did not say I was unworthy, only that I was grateful," she murmurs, black eyes meeting hazel without blinking. "One can be grateful, yes? To have a friend willing to provide an alibi. Who is clever and knows about teleconference and how to make flowers from plastics and names their van for television shows." All of which are marks in his favor, to judge by her smile. This is probably the neatest Micah’s hair has been in /months/. “Yes, I s’pose grateful is fine.” He smiles warmly. “I’m just used to…I’ve had a number of friends in my life who have felt like bein’ their friend was a burden. I just wanted to make sure y’didn’t think that. Because it’s not /ever/.” Ohmy. Too much praise all at once! Micah ducks his head a bit with the return of higher colour across his cheekbones. Nox considers this in silence. With his hair sorted, she curls her fingers and lets her knuckles graze his cheek--though said knuckles don't really have the proper bony feel to them--before letting her hand fall away. "Perhaps it is a /little/ burden," she says with quiet amusement. "You are a person with a plan, with places to go and things to do. You are..." It takes a moment to find the right words, and when she does find them, sure enough they're a nod back to the lyrics he'd recited. "You are a part of that world." Her head tilts towards the windshield, the snow skittering across it. Micah’s eyes press closed a moment as Nox’s hand brushes his face, then he looks up at her again. He shakes his head slightly. “So are you. You’re a part. Some might try to deny you that, but they haven’t the right. And they can’t. And I, at the very least, am gonna keep you connected here.” So much earnestness! His tone becomes lighter, teasing. “Whether you like it or not, Miss.” "I am not a part of this one, no." Nox will argue, no matter the threats. The way she lifts her chin just a little is meant to signal laughing defiance. "But much of that is by choice rather than prejudice. I do better below. If you could see it, I think you would understand." Her head tilts to rest against the seat so that she's regarding Micah at an angle, her smile lingering. "If you could see /me/ there." As Nox is smiling and laughing yet, Micah does not press his argument. He pursues curiosity instead. “See you where, exactly?” He cants his head to match hers, slouching down in his seat. Ah. This is the danger of sharing stories about one's self. It becomes difficult to remember what's been told already--and what was kept back. Nox rolls her lower lip under her teeth, hesitating, when he pins her with that question. It isn't easily avoided. The silence drags out. "I...the reason. I found that girl. The person who had her, he...had his lair. In the tunnels. Below the city." “Huh,” is Micah’s simple, bemused response to this. “That is all very…Neil Gaimanish, really.” He smiles faintly, idly raking his fingers through his hair again. So much for all that tidying… “Is it safe there?” "So I have been told." Nox hums--and then proves that it is compulsion rather than simple preference, when she reaches out again to begin the smoothing process anew. Micah is going to end this night well groomed, if nothing else. "Never safe, not truly. For those who know it. Also very Neverwhere, I know. But down there I can be more me than anywhere else." Micah’s nose scrunches in amusement at Nox’s renewed fussing, a bunny-like gesture. “I suppose no place is entirely safe… Those who know? So, you have a community there? I mean, it’s not lonesome?” Nox takes the nose-scrunching as a sign that he rumpled his hair on purpose. It was a trap! So the next time her hand courses back, tucking his hair behind his ear, she tweaks said ear lightly. "You are incorrigible," she murmurs, "and entirely too curious for your own good. It is not lonesome. It is just...very, very large, and very, very dark. As I am when I'm there." Micah smirks at Nox’s ear-tweaking…and word choice. “So I have been told.” His lips twitch a bit with this. “I don’t mean to pry. I just…like to know that everything is okay. As much as it can be…” Her statement brings to mind a fun image, which he shares. “So…you’re like a shadow-goldfish? Just…grow to fit the pond?” "Do goldfish grow to fit the pond?" What an entertaining idea! Nox had no idea and draws her hand back to consider the imagery. "If so, then I suppose I am. The shadow-goldfish of the sewers. It is not a pond most would want to swim in but I do well there." She tilts her head and smiles at him, reflecting bemusement back at Micah. "So all is well, if you do not mind living with a sewer monster." Entertainment is /good/ after so much earnestness! “Sewer monster? Oh, goodness! Should I be cowering now? I have a blanket in the back I could cower under. Love a good cower.” So. Much. Teasing. Silent laughter gleams in Micah’s eyes, over a grin that is not as easy to silence. "That depends. Are you frightened of spiders?" Nox inquires, attempting earnest. Whispers are good for that, at least, though there is a suspicious thrum filling the air around the shape she's taken. Micah’s eyes slide up to regard the ceiling of the van, considering Nox’s question. “Not so much /frightened/. And not so much /spiders/, either. It’s more… You know how the Discovery Channel plays that plucky violin music whenever they’re showin’ somethin’ as has more’n six legs?” He /shudders/ visibly. “Ugh. That makes my /skin/ try to creep off. And now I’ve permanently associated the plucky with the leggy. I think I /condition/ too easily.” There’s that nose crinkle again. Nox leans towards him, making it easier to confide, "Then perhaps a good cower is in order. Two legs are for amateurs." But then, oh then, she remembers just /who/ she is speaking to and teasing goes to the wayside. It takes half a blink for Nox to become horrified with herself, hand lifting to her mouth and eyes rounding. "Oh, Micah, I am sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Micah leans in to meet Nox, the better to hear what confidence might be coming. And then she goes all apologetic. He blinks a few times, thinking over... "Oh! Oh, goodness, legs." He dissolves into giggles. "Honey, don't even worry about that. I've had an entire lifetime of it. It don't really fuss me any. Haven't known any different." It may not bother him but it bothers /her/--at least until she's studied him long enough to be certain those giggles are genuine. These being Micah-giggles, it doesn't take long. "I was not thinking," Nox sighs, smile reluctantly creeping back. "But I am glad you told me. I will have to remember that if I give your shadow more than the proper number of legs, it will bother you. I have never heard the music that goes with it though." Micah’s still chuckling softly. “Not that bothersome, really. Just a bit creepy. Bit of creepiness never /really/ did anybody harm.” He smiles at her reassuringly: really, he’s okay! “Count yourself lucky. Nothin’ good in the plucky violins.” He sticks his tongue out for a moment, emphasizing his opinion. Sticking his tongue out earns him a gentle chuck beneath the chin. "That depends on whom one asks," Nox observes mildly. "Creepiness is /very/ effective in certain situations. But you deserve sunshine and a world without plucky violins." Her hand withdraws and she casts another look towards the back of the van. "I suppose I should allow you to return to your work. It looks important." “Hmm,” Micah replies to this reminder with a little sigh. “Yes, I prob’ly should finish it up. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, though.” "You would not mind me watching?" Nox sounds tempted, her own curiosity betrayed by another glance to the back. "You would hardly know I was here, I promise. I don't want to be a distraction." Micah shakes his head in reply. “No, it wouldn’t trouble me. I do a fair amount of my work with curious little kidlings pryin’ at me half the time when I’m on-site. I honestly don’t distract easy.” He considers that for a second, then laughs a bit at his own expense. “That’s a lie. I distract extremely easy. But not so much when I’m workin’ and mean to get somethin’ done.” "Thank you, Micah." Nox can't really twinkle at him, but she's subtly pleased to have snuck that thank you in there /naturally/. Before he can reply, she's fading out--only for a swath of shadow to go eeling into the back of the van to collect along the ceiling. "I will try to minimize any distracting," the ceiling promises. “You’re welcome, darlin’,” Micah replies with a little smile and a shake of his head. “You needn’t worry so much about that, but if you just feel like bein’ still and quiet, that’s fine, too. I know that can be nice sometimes.” He clambers and squirms between the seats to get into the workshop area without having to go outside in the light snow again. “It’s nice just to have someone around, too.” "You do not seem the type that does well when too isolated," Nox murmurs, sounding as if she's agreeing with him. "If I can help, even a little, then I'm glad." And she /can/ help, if the opportunity arises. She is perfectly positioned for holding things if he needs an extra hand--and can tolerate tentacles dangling down into his workspace. “I really don’t,” Micah admits quietly as he collects the materials he had discarded earlier. “And you are. Helping.” Phantom fingers ruffle his hair, undoing all of her own hard work from earlier. Nox hums. "Good. Then let us see what you can do, sir."