ArchivedLogs:Between A Rock And A --

Between A Rock And A --
Dramatis Personae Corey, Hive, Melinda
In Absentia	2014-03-11 '
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. Melinda has been on her feet all day. A little after the lunch time rush, she obstinately started cleaning out one of the employee filing cabinet, boxing up old information after organizing the contents. So when she finally surfaces into the more customer oriented part of the store, she's exhausted, a little pale, and trundling like an odd-legged beetle. Cellphone in hand, she heads to her usual seat, at Hive's usual table, without looking to see who else was sitting there. She then lowers herself and her aching body into the chair and takes a moment just to rest, a weird tightness occupying her mind. She sits there in silence for a while, wearing lightweight gray leggings under a long red skirt with slits up to each knee on the side. Her blouse is a loose gray as well, with ruffling around the front. At length, she looks over to see who she is intruding upon, realizing it might not be Hive at all. Lucky for Melinda it /is/ the cranky telepath, tucked behind his laptop with a long-since-cold cup of soup (entirely untouched) sitting beside his also-cold coffee (mostly empty.) He's dressed today casually as ever, faded-frayed jeans, ratty duct-taped-together sneakers, brown t-shirt with an image of a pair of hedgehogs looking curiously at another hedgehog who has tipped a can of blue paint over himself, unzipped deep red sweatshirt with the letters Theta Tau embroidered on it in gold. No jacket, with the weather spiking up into the sixties today, though even in the warmth he is wearing a soft fleece cap pulled down over his ears, blue and spotted with red stars. "I could just leave a reserved sign here. Stick my name on it. Glare at anyone who dares take my seat." He doesn't actually look up at Melinda, just states this with a lopsided smirk. He's working -- slowly, as usual, shaky hands picking their careful way over his keys and mouse. Not the Commons anymore, /that's/ pretty much complete; now he's on to an office building of some type. Dressed sedately in a dark grey long sleve teeshirt and a pair of grey pants, Corey seems fairly subdued as he makes his way into Montagues to start his shift. He even seems to have bags under his eyes, an odd thing for the large man. As he steps inside, he pauses and looks over his shoulder as if looking for someone, the image of Selene and her gun toting henchman coming to his thoughts, before he shakes his head and lets out a sigh. Still as the scents of coffee and spices come to him, a smile comes to his lips even if it doesn't reach his eyes, and he offers Melinda a small wave as he sees her out at a table, though his smile falters slightly as she sees who it is she's with and the history of berating he's received from the fellow. Still, the smile recovers to his face as he heads back to grab his apron and get to work. Melinda smiles a little and lets out an amused noise. She leans a little more heavily on the table, her hand starting to rub against her belly, trying to dispel the tightness. She inhales and considers. "I could do it, you know. I am the manager here." She picks up her phone and selects a number from her contact list. Then she calls it. A second later, the phone starts ringing behind the counter. However, when she sees Corey come in, she hangs up. The restaurant line goes dead, too. "Hey, Corey?" She is about to speak more, but her eyes focus briefly on him before she is distracted by that almost pain again. "I could pay you rent," Hive suggests with a quick grin. "You know. In return for my perma-spot. -- What is that?" His eyes have narrowed on Melinda, head tilting slightly to one side like listening to something unheard. "You okay?" There's a small /squeeze/ of pressure up against Melinda's mind, Hive's familiar touch pushing in in curious-concern. He glances towards the phone in Melinda's hand, then up to Corey. His brows raise, smile also faltering. He slouches down further in his seat, though, smile returning crookedly a moment later. "-- Yo," is followed by the almost apologetic explanation to Corey: "I'm moving in here. Taking up permanent residency at this table." Looking up as she calls to him, Corey tilts his head "Hrm? Did you need something? Water or food, or.." he pauses and frowns as she gets a pained look. Either way he starts to move closer, hoping whatever weird thing with the light that happened last night didn't break whatever he normally does. "Are you alright?" At the smile from Hive, he seems almost surprised, and inclines his head. "Alright, I can make up a sign or something. We might have some empty boxes in the back for some cardboard." He does seem distracted though from the banter, thoughts of healing in his mind with concern for Mel. "Eh. Stop staring at me." Melinda replies grumpily, but her thoughts are more affectionate -- and embarrassed. "I just... over did it a bit." She looks up at them, sheepishly shifting her attention from Hive to Corey before swallowing hard. "Doctor said I'd have to start slowing down some. I guess, I didn't expect it to happen so soon." She breathes slowly and evenly, still embarrassed before glancing at Corey once more. "Yeah, I was going to call in my order, but you're here. I mean, if you want to get settled, that's fine. I just wanted some water and maybe some coleslaw." Hive chuffs out a sharp snort, head shaking. "I'm just passing it on. You have no fucking idea how much gorram /fretty/ staring I get these days." He sounds amused more than anything. "'least yours will pass in a couple months. -- Huh." His lips purse, skewing slighly to one side. "I gotta admit s'hard to imagine you slowing down. Everyone I freaking know is a crazy fucking workaholic." Though the deep sleepless-shadowed bags beneath his eyes and the /speed/ with which the Commons designs have progressed might not exclude himself from this. "Ohshit." His eyes widen out of their perpetually half-lidded state, amusement flitting across his face at Corey's offer. "Wait Mel can I reserve this table /for serious/. Weekday afternoons only." He /does/ stop in here pretty much every day en route to work before heading on to the office later in the afternoon. His eyes fix on Corey at the healing-thoughts with a sudden more /sharp/ curiosity, though; he looks over the other man with brow furrowed deeply. "Water and a coleslaw it is. When you want more, just let me know." Corey gives a little smile and a salute at that, his mood improving at least. "Doesn't take me that long to settle in, and I can do that after you get what you need." He starts to walk off, then pauses at Hive's question to Mel, as if waiting on her say so. He does raise a brow as the eyes fix on him though. "Did you need something too while I'm at it? Less trips back and forth and all." "Well, cardboard can do for now, but we'll get you a nameplate or something in the future." Melinda smiles more easily as the tightness starts to pass. She considers slowing down and grows less relaxed. 'Too much to do' keeps running under her thoughts, quietly, more tired than driving. << It's easy to get carried away with Corey here... >> she feels a little silly for working so long when he wasn't coming until the afternoon with that energy of his. "I'll just have to work very hard at being lazy." She lets her smile warm again. "And I'll try not to stare at you too much anymore." "Oh -- me? I --" Hive glances down at his untouched soup with a frown, a heavier slouch of his shoulders. His hand trembles as he lifts it to rub at his eye. "Nah, s'cool, man, I'm good." << -- Healing? >> The question thuds heavily into Corey's mind with a hammer-hard tone, curiosity underneath the word. "Being lazy is hard as shit when you're not used to -- not used to --" He shakes his head, lifting his hand to rub at his temple again. "Staring's okay. Just not the fretting. Staring I can pretend like everyone is /ogling/." "I'll grab a box then. Probably best if I use the box cutter to pair it down for you. You seem like you could use a bit of a break." Corey offers a warm smile to her, and at the denial of Hive needing anything he starts to head back to the counter. The mental thud possibly gets a different reaction than Hive is used to though, a sharp aggression spike and a bit of outrage <<YOU TOOK PLENTY LAST NIGHT You...>> there is a pause and a blink, as his body language goes from an almost fighting stance to a confused state <<You... aren't Selene. Ow. Who are you, you're not another vampire are you...>>. Not wanting to cause Melinda worry though, he heads back behind the counter to make Mel her coleslaw, his eyes looking out through the front windows, not having put the telepathy together with Hive. << Oh, ogling? I can ogle. >> Melinda inhales deeply and turns a glance toward Hive, staring at him with a dreamy look on her face. Her gaze studies his features, memories flicking back warmly to that ... well, he knows. She stares at him until embarrassment creeps back into her cheeks, causing her to turn away. "Corey? What's going on?" Melinda catches the quick shifts in his body language, her brow furrowing as her lips purse. The ogling -- and perhaps the memories too -- draw a softer smile out of Hive, a quick-sharp breath of laughter. "See? I could live with /that/ all day." His eyes flick over Mel in return, though /his/ ogling is cut short by a small wince as he rubs at his temple again. "Shit -- my fault," he answers Melinda's question to Corey. << Selene? >> This is a curious poke, too, Hive's mind watching Corey's in puzzlement to see what associations that name dredges up. << I'm not Selene. /Or/ a vampire. Though I do live with a vampire. What the fuck happened last night? >> "Just a bit of a bad reaction still from last night. Was kinda mugged." Corey doesn't seem to want to talk about it, though he raises a brow as Hive takes responsibility for it. Letting out a short sigh as if he had been holding a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he quickly scoops out the coleslaw for Mel and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. With poke at of curiosity with Selene's name dredges through a quick series of mental scenes, from meeting her in busboys and poets with a new link to creepy demon mental voices saying it wants to eat him, to meeting Selene and Emma which seemed normal in comparison, to last night in an alley with her hand on his mouth, threats of what would happen if he tells, and him erupting in glowing light. << She tried to kill me. Or not kill me. Shouldn't say anything, she said people would be hurt if I did. >> "If you were mugged, then..." Melinda begins, worried and frustrated at being left out in the dark. She turns part of her annoyance on Hive, but knows better than to ask him to give up secrets. She just takes her water and pulls it cloes, twisting off the lid and starts sipping, grumpily. "You're sure you're okay? Corey, if you've been mugged, that's more than enough of a reason to take the night off. We would have worked something out." "Shit, man, that's crappy as hell. {Sorry}," is in Thai though the tone of apology is easily enough conveyed. "And apologies for -- that's, uh, startling when unexpected, I know." Hive waggles fingers -- somewhat less shaky, the longer Corey is around -- towards his head. << When you hear everyone's brain, you get /hella/ used to keeping secrets. But holy shit, dude, that's -- seventeen kinds of not okay, you gonna be okay? >> His eyes narrow on his computer screen, lips pressing thin as he studies the design he's working on. "Fuck," he mutters to himself. "It's okay Mel. I know you and your baby kinda need," Corey pauses glancing around as his mind thinks healing, "the help I can put in here. I just hope it still works." There is doubt, and perhaps concern on his face at that pronouncement, the glow coming to mind and how crappy he felt over the night. "Better to be in a group right? I might take a cab home tonight instead of walking though." He shrugs a little, but nods at the apology. "Its okay. I'll be fine." He does seem to be relaxing though, a meditation mantra going through his head, actually the heart sutra to be more specific. << I survived. And it means other people survive. Better I be inconvenienced, than someone else be dead after all. >> "Hive..." Melinda eyes him when he curses, before turning back to Corey. "Oh come on, Corey. I can slow down and take this normal. You /can/ have a night off." Underneath her concern, Mel is annoyed. Sure, Corey maybe still feels guilty about the whole fertility thing, but he sure as hell doesn't need to reinforce trauma by forcing himself to work when he's still clearly shaken up. She harmphs at her coleslaw, then drinks some water. "You better take a cab." "There is some benefit to getting back to normal -- ffff." Hive's eyes scrunch up tight, head bowing slightly. "Normal --" He lapses into quiet, eyes fixed on his screen as his teeth grind together. "After bad shit happens. Just. Getting back to life. But the cab's still a good --" Again quiet; his forefinger taps rapid-jittery against his keyboard. << Jegus. Sometimes life is just full of shitty-ass choices. Is she going to -- fucking -- /kill/ someone if -- if -- >> Here his words trail off mentally, too, his frown still just rather severely directed towards his computer. "It's fine Mel, I don't mind sticking around. If you make me take the night off I'd just be sitting at a table here and studying. Which is basically what I do on my breaks anyway." Corey offers her a grin at that, tapping the blocky notecard shaped things in his pocket. "And I will take a cab, I promise. I remember the cab companys number just fine." He nods his head at that as if it settled things, though he eyes Hive curiously as his words trail. "Are, you alright? Or is this something I shouldn't be sticking my nose in?" he looks between the two figuring he'd get the answer if he at least asks. << Yes. She takes my life, which at least doesn't hurt me, or she takes someone else's and theres a new body. And I might still end up getting shot dead by her weird french forces guy. >> Melinda shakes her head and exhales moodily. "Yeah, I get it. Getting out... being normal. Okay." She scowls and plays with her food, the tines of her fork weaving in between the strands of cabbage and carrots. << Apologies, Hive. I'm just - well, I'm one of those worriers. At least you're not the brunt for a while. >> She pulls her hair back and sips more water. "Kinda sick," Hive answers Corey with a crooked curl of smile. "Kinda pretty sick." The smile fades back into scowl as he looks to his work again. His teeth grind once more. << That's like. Being stuck between a rock and a -- psychotic bitch. I mean, at least she doesn't hurt you? But if she's blackmailing you with other people's lives I doubt she's the type to balk at killing people just so. Maybe she shouldn't be -- shouldn't be -- >> He breaks off again, teeth grinding together. "... whatever normal means around here these days, at least." To Mel, wryly: << I live with Flicker and Jax and Micah. I can handle a little fret. >> "If the coleslaw isn't what you actually wanted, I can get you one of the pastries instead?" Corey tilts his head, the look on his face saying he's going to get her to eat Something if he has to go through everything in the inventory. "Or pickles. I don't think we have icecream?" He shakes his head not sure what she might want, though he's trying to think of pregnant lady foods. At Hive's pronouncement, he frowns. "Oh. I'm sorry." He doesn't really know what to say beyond that, figuring that must have been the source of questioning the healing. << Yeah, I kinda got the drift she's evil. But I don't really have another answer, so I'll just suck it up...and hope whatever happened doesn't go off again. >> "Oh, right. I should go get the box. I have the sharpies behind the counter at least." Melinda slides a hand across the table and rests hers over Hive's, leaning back in her chair unable to eat much while her stomach is still a little tight. "I don't know. You can see if there are any of Hanna's gingersnaps in my office. I just... stomaches are stupid and funny things. If I don't figure out something to eat, it'll get worse." There's a pause and then she realizes what he really said. "Pfft. Don't give me your pregnancy stereotypes." She rolls her heads. "You're terrible." "Mngh." For a long while Hive doesn't answer any of this, past this one disgruntled noise. Just closes his eyes, hand once more faintly shaky beneath Mel's; his other hand rubs knuckles against his temple slowly, posture slouched forward to prop his head against his hand. His eyes scrunch tighter closed, a hard tension to his posture as well. But eventually he does crack an eye open to volunteer: "The kid's in favor of the gingersnaps." "I'll go check. If you're out I can give her a call and see if we can get some more." Corey chuckles as she gets the joke. "At least I didn't suggest pickle ice cream. I think my mom said she ate jars of peanut butter when she had me, but with at least one of my sisters she was eating jalepeno poppers. And she can't stand anything hot." He does look concerned between the two, as if wondering if leaving the vicinity is that good of an idea, but figuring it wouldn't be that long, he heads in search of cookies. "Maybe the kid is indifferent and just puts up with them because they make momma happy." Melinda rolls her eyes a little, smiling despite this. "Oh, don't rush. I'm soon going to be absolutely inundated with Hanna's baked goods. I think a few more weeks of a slow trickle will be okay. I always like spicy, but I can't say my craving for that has grown." She wrinkles her nose and leans back, hand rubbing at her belly gently, just because it entertains the kid. "Relax a little bit, Corey. You've got other customers than your boss and one of our regulars. You know we'll come back." << Though, >> Mel considers quietly, << If you're as curious as I am, you could always ask. >> "I asked," Hive clarifies, faint smile twitching at his lips. He rubs again at his temple, and drops his hand to the table. "Fff. I should get to the -- get to the --" He shakes his head slowly, saving his work and starting to collect his things."Place. I work." Corey returns with the container and sets it on the table, having brought a cardboard box that had contained sugar before. "I know I know. I'll go and serve the world. Let me know if you need anything though." He inclines his head to Hive as he starts to get up. "Alright, have a good evening then. I guess we don't need to put up the sign yet, maybe for tomorrow," he says as he sets down the box, a box cutter and a sharpie. << What did the kid say? >> Mel asks quietly, relinquishing his hand so he can gather his stuff. "Okay. Everyone back to work. I'm... just going to sit a while longer." She lifts her water bottle in salute. "Less /say/, more /feel/," Hive answers Mel, out loud. He shuffles his laptop into his backpack, grimacing as he pushes to his feet but slinging it onto his shoulder with less effort than is usual for him these days. "I'll be back tomorrow," he assures with a crooked grin. "'round lunchtime, usually." He tips his chin up to the others. "Don't die." This is his parting, as he turns to head out. "You neither," Mel remarks bluntly.