ArchivedLogs:Business, Pleasure, and Pizza

Business, Pleasure, and Pizza
Dramatis Personae Josiah, Trib	2014-04-05 '
Location <NYC> 813 {Josiah} - One Sixty-Seven - Upper West Side
It's a clear night in New York and the city is buzzing. Though he's not out among the throng, Josiah can still feel it, the energy. He's standing out on his balcony with a glass of bourbon in one hand, swirling it around, listening to honking horns and a nearby neighbor's music fill the air. Inside the apartment, a stylish open-air loft with granite floors and mid-century modern furniture, evidence of his earlier business is plentiful: cardboard boxes, some filled with books that once lined a bare shelf against the wall, others with miscellaneous items. the beginnings of a move. A few short, hard beeps from the kitchen stirs Josiah from his musings, and he curses lightly under his breath. Inside, he moves to the oven, checks on whatever is inside, and sets the temperature on low, leaving the door open a crack. From the intercom next to the door, there is a buzzing, followed by the voice of the doorman eight floors below. "Mr. Brink? It's Robert, the doorman." Josiah clears his throat and crosses the apartment to the intercom. He engages it with the touch of a finger and response. "Robert, what can I do for you?" Releasing the intercom, he waits, while the apartment fills with a tasty aroma from the oven. There's a brief pause before Robert's voice comes back, a bit stiff as he replies. "Sir, are you expecting a Mister Jones this evening? There's a.../gentleman/ here asking for you." Trib's voice floats after him, growling and low. "I ain't no fuckin' /gentleman/." Robert clears his throat when he returns. "Yes. Well. He's here, nevertheless. Are you expecting him, sir?" Josiah restrains from laughing, letting out only a muffled snicker. "Yes, Robert, I'm expecting him. You can send him up." He releases the intercom and opens the front door, leaving it ajar for Trib when he comes up. Crossing the room once more, he heads back into the kitchen and finds a small remote on the counter. He uses it to engage his iPod, filling the room with subdued electronic music. "Very good, sir," Robert says, and the intercom clicks dead as he disconnects. It's a good few minutes before Trib enters the apartment, his expression uncertain in that his eyebrows are furrowed in a deep V. Dressed in jeans and a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his biceps and open over a white t-shirt, it's easy to see the source of Robert's concern. The knit cap he pulls off as he pushes the door closed behind him doesn't help the image, either. "You didn't tell me you lived in no swanky fuckin' place," he says in lieu of hello, glaring at Josiah. There's no heat in his tone, although his back is a bit rigid. "With a fuckin' /doorman/ an' everything." Josiah belts out a laugh and walks over to Trib. "Surprise, I guess. Robert's really an alright guy once he gets to know you. Except he tends to get a little needy around Christmastime." Motioning further into the apartment, he heads toward the kitchen, where there are a few barstools flanking a countertop and a small dining table nearby. "So how've you been, Trib? Can I get you anything to drink?" "All them doormen is needy at the holidays," Trib rumbles, some of the growl coming out of his tone. "Can't go no place without 'em stickin' out their hands an' wishin' you the merriest of fuckin' Christmases." He looks around the apartment as he moves past Josiah, nudging him gently with his elbow as he goes. "Water's good as anything, 'less you got somethin' sweet," the boxer answers the question, drifting over to eye one of the cardboard boxes and nudging it with a booted toe. "Why you movin' out?" He turns to flash a bit of teeth at the older man, a hard and wicked sort of grin. "Get tired of dolin' out in the spirit of the season?" "Tell me about it. And you'd think he'd know I'm Jewish," Josiah says with a smirk. He busies himself for a moment, returning with a glass of root beer and ice, which he offers to Trib. "I sort of have to move out. They're not too fond of mutants here, and since I registered it's not as if I can hide it from them." He doesn't look too down about it, though, sipping his bourbon with a smile. "Oh, I made a pizza, too. Hungry? If not you'll have to watch me eat the whole thing." "Don't matter none to them if you're Jewish or not," Trib calls after Josiah, squatting to look at some of the titles that are in a box. Not that any of them mean anything to him. "They know /everybody/ gets sappy around the fuckin' end of the year." He stands back up when Josiah returns, moving to take the glass with a nod. "Pizza's good...you /made it?" He seems impressed with this fact, and he lifts his glass with a snort. "That's a bunch of fuckin' bullshit about this place," he says. "It ain't like you're fuckin' up no one's life or nothin'." He furrows his brow before lifting one back up slowly. "You ain't, are you?" In the box, Trib finds a bunch of fiction books, many by Russian authors. Some old, some new. "Not that I know of, and I hope not," Josiah says. "It is bullshit, and it panders to the snobs who have always been bigots, I guess. I'm not bothered, though. I wouldn't mind a change of scenery." He's on his way back to the kitchen now to get the pizza from the oven. He sets his glass down, opens the oven, and uses a cloth to pull out the stone from inside. "I like cooking. My grandmother and I used to make pizzas together. The fun doesn't get old with age." "Where you gonna go?" Trib asks, drifting after Josiah and planting himself in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans his big frame against the jamb, eyes half-closed as he watches Josiah work. "I ain't heard of many mutant-friendly places in this city, let alone in this neighborhood." He chuffs a laugh. "Not that I been lookin' up here." He nods at the explanation, and the corner of his mouth curls into a smile. "You don't find many Jewish grandmas who make a decent fuckin' pizza," he teases. "Ain't it un-kosher or some shit?" Josiah talks while he works on slicing up the pizza, piled with cheese and meat. "My family sort of picks and chooses when to be religious. We always did use kosher meat, but mostly said fuck it. A funny bunch we are, I guess. Please, have a seat." He motions to the kitchen counter and its bar stools before pulling out some plates from a cupboard. "And you know I want to get out of the neighborhood, actually. I'm not sure where I'll go, but there's got to be something out there." He gets some slices onto the plates and takes them to the counter, setting them down before hopping into a seat himself. "But really, that's enough about me. I wanted to talk to you about something." "Sounds like most families in America," Trib rumbles, his eyes crinkling. "Pickin' an' choosin' what they're goin' to abide by." He takes the indicated seat, sliding into it and setting his glass down. Then he plunks his elbows on the counter top, watching Josiah. "This is a pretty nice neighborhood," he says, frowning slightly. "I ain't sure there's much better. Unless you're thinkin' about movin' out to Brooklyn Heights or some shit." He sniffs the air as the pizza comes close, showing a bit of teeth in his grin as he eyes the plate. The question catches him off-guard, and he narrows his eyes at Josiah. "I knew it," he says. "You want me to fuckin' help you move." Josiah leans against the counter, swiveling his seat so he can face Trib. He smiles and shakes his head. "No, don't wory about that. It's covered." He lifts his glass and sips a bit more of the bourbon. "The last time we saw each other you mentioned what you did for work. Heroes for Hire. To be honest I was a little surprised, but that's besides the point." He sets his glass down and says, bluntly, "Can you talk on some more work right now?" Trib smirks a bit, and rolls a shoulder. "It ain't like I'd say no, if you asked," he clarifies, picking up a slice of pizza. He takes a large bite from it, uncognizant or uncaring about the hot cheese and sauce. He chews it slowly, as if he's savoring the flavor, as he listens to Josiah. His eyes narrow at the mention of Josiah's surprise, but he remains quiet until the question. Then he inhales slowly, and frowns. "Well, I ain't sure what Cage has got goin' on," he admits. "That guy's all over the fuckin' place. But if the job's the right kind...." He frowns, and swivels so that he's facing Josiah dead on, and hunches forward. "What's goin' on?" Josiah smirks right back and tosses in a wink. "If I need some heavy lifting I'll remember to give you a call." He grabs his own slice, winces at its heat, and lets it drop back to the plate. "Well, you might remember my friend Dusk. You guys met that same night. Big bat wings." He grabs his drink here and downs what's left, letting out a woosh of air at sudden onslaught of alcohol against his throat. "He's missing. Kidnapped, apparently. I want to hire you guys to find him." "It ain't got to be /heavy/ lifting," Trib drawls, looking over the other man frankly with a smokey amber gaze. "I figure I can manage up to about a hundred an' eighty five pounds." He punctuates this thought with a wink of his own; a slow and meaningful close of one half-lidded eye. He bobs his head in memory of Dusk, and takes another bite of pizza. "He was cool," he says around his mouthful of food. "I liked him." He's in the process of swallowing when Josiah lowers the boom, and he takes a big swig of root beer to chase the pizza down. Then he can only stare at Josiah, his body almost statue-like in its rigidity. "What." On another night, Josiah might have chased the wink with gentle flirtation, but it doesn't seem appropriate tonight, somehow. "That's exactly what I said, when I first found out. I was supposed to meet him last night and ran into some of his friends instead. I'm not sure if they wanted me to know or not, but they didn't do a good job of hiding it if not." The older man stands, snatches his glass from the counter and walks over to a makeshift bar that houses his bottle of bourbon, among other treats. "I don't know much, but I know whereabouts it happened and I know that mutants are ivolved on all sides." He fixes himself another drink, turns, and asks, "Can you help?" There's a sound like marble shifting against itself as Trib grinds his teeth. His own flirty mood seems to have disappeared in light of this new information. The boxer drops his pizza slice, and grinds the fingers of his half-hand into his eyes. "God /damn/ it," he growls, and his left hand curls into a fist. "What the fuck is fuckin' /wrong/ with this fuckin' town?" He pushes to his feet as well, and pulls himself upright with a cracking noise along his spine. "Fuck /yes/, I'll help," he grunts. "I've been fuckin' yanked off the fuckin' street an' thrown in a cage. I ain't keen on it fuckin' happenin' to other mutants." Josiah nods and walks out of the kitchen area, stopping to lay a hand on Trib's shoulder. "You'll have to tell me about that sometime," he says, looking up at the man and giving the shoulder a squeeze. Continuing to a desk that's propped against the wall under an expansive window, Josiah tends to his drink. "Everything I know is in here," Josiah says, fishing out a manila envelope from one of the desk drawers. "It's really not much, but if you could give it to your boss I'd be thankful." Inside is a single sheet of paper, most taken up by a nicely-written letter to Cage, detailing his desired payment method: Cash. He oves to hand it over to Trib. "I hope this hasn't ruined the night." "Ain't much to tell," Trib says, his brow lowering. Josiah's hand will find the muscle of Trib's shoulder is marble-solid with tension, though the boxer offers a tight almost-smile for the gesture. "Fuckin' cops took me, an' made me fight in that fuckin' fight club that was all over the news." His nostrils flare as he remembers this, and there's a small, quick narrowing of his eyes that resembles a wince. "But they shut that shit down, an' you said there was mutants involved. Which is really /fucked/." He paces a bit, his expression darkening. "So yeah. I'll definitely look into it." He takes the envelope, extracting the letter just enough that he can read it. "You know Cage works for free, right? We're fuckin' non-profit an' shit." Sliding the letter back inside, he rolls the envelope in his hands, and smirks at Josiah's sentiment. "It ain't ruined it for /me/," he rumbles, crinkling his eyes at the other man with the smallest curl of a smile. "But now you've got me all riled up, it might be a bit rough for /you/." "Yeah, of course I remember that. Big news, sorry to hear you were involved." He blinks at the news that Heroes for Hire doesn't charge, as if he doesn't quite understand it. "Well, consider it an offer of donation. If you guys can help me, I can certainly do the same." A bit more of the bourbon and his eyes start to gloss over. He eyes the pizza he's mostly ignored, then Trib once again. "I noticed. You felt tense. What are we going to do about that?" "Hah. Cage will take a donation," Trib says, his eyes crinkling. "But I figure I'll let him haggle with you over the fuckin' amount. I just want to fuckin' find your friend." He watches as Josiah takes another swallow, and his expression is thoughtful. "Well, I guess I should get a fuckin' massage or somethin'," he rumbles, stepping forward. He reaches out to latch a hand around the small of Josiah's back and haul him closer. "You know anyone who could help me out with that?" "Good, we can discuss that after it's all done and over with. Thank you, Trib. I want him found, too, and to know what the hell is going on out there." Josiah's eyes widen at the approach, but he allows himself to be pulled in. After reaching out to set his glas on the nearest surface, he grins wide and places his hands on the other man, one on a shoulder, the other reaching out to feel the back of Trib's neck. "Yeah, you know I think I might be able to do something for you." Trib grins, and leans forward to make neck-grabbing easier, and brushes his hair against Josiah's cheek before he leans in to bump his forehead softly against the other man's. "Good," he rumbles, his grip around Josiah's waist tightening to allow him to /lift/ the other man and begin walking in the direction of what he hopes is the bedroom. "Business, pleasure, an' pizza for after...." Trib smiles, and brushes a kiss across the older man's lips. "All my work-related meetings should be like this." Josiah turns his head into Trib's hair, inhaling the other man's scent as he rumbles into his ear. On being lifted, he lets out a laugh and allows himself to be guided to, yes, the bedroom. It's not a terribly big apartment after all. "It is a nice lineup, isn't it?" His lips part for the kiss, albeit briefly. "I've never shown you what my mutation, have I?" Trib shakes his head at the question, and his smile is a bit wicked as he pushes into the bedroom. Setting Josiah back down, he cocks an eyebrow at the question. "Are we goin' to play 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he wonders, clearly amused by the idea. "Because I'll have to show you mine after, if you want to have any fun /now/." He lifts his half-hand, beckoning with his fingers. "Let's see it, then." Josiah leans back into the cushion of his bed as he's set down. He chuckles and nods, "Yeah, that sounds like a deal to me. I'll show you mine," he says, closing his eyes. A moment later he's pushing himself off the bed, and it may seem like Trib's eyes are playing tricks on him, because at the same time he's also lying further back on it. Not a trick, though. There are now two Josiahs in the room, and one is moving to lay a hand on Trib. "Now you show my yours," he says, glancing downward while the Josiah on the bed laughs. If Trib's startled by the sudden duplicate of Josiah, it's fairly well-hidden by the sudden gleam of...well, we'll call it inspiration in his eyes. It's certainly a thoughtful expression that accompanies it. He reaches out to touch the closest Josiah, running his hand along his chest and down to his waist before he withdraws it. "If I show you mine," he rumbles, looking first at the Josiah in front of him, then the one on the bed, "it'll be a fuckin' hour before I can do anything an' enjoy it." He grins, and leans closer to Josiah A. "So, it's up to you. I can show you, an' we can wait to have our fun, or I can show you later, an' we can explore yours a bit more." Josiah the second - We'll call him Jay - lets trib run his hands over him. Trib will feel developed, tight muscles, what comes from plenty of time in a gym, though nothing huge. Jay says, "Oh I can wait for that. I wasn't talking about your mutation just then." He offers a wicked grin and wraps an arm around the other man. Josiah slides to the edge of the be, letting his legs drape off the side so he can kick off his footwear. "We do still want to see that, though. Another time."