ArchivedLogs:Check-In

Check-In
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda	2013-07-29 '
Location <NYC> Melinda and Tag's Apartment - Lower East Side
The apartment is composed of four bedrooms, two baths, a living room and an entry space attached to the kitchen, near the door. That kitchen is covered in tile, from floor to countertop to back splash on the wall, all white, with light, thin blue stems and flowers. The cabinets are newish, with blond wood kept meticulously clean of fingerprints. It is also outfitted with an excellent coffee maker, or two, with all the accoutrement to go with it. The living room is mainly furnished by found pieces, two chairs and a couch. None of it was constructed at the same time, but it all has been reupholstered with the same cloth, the surfaces colored similarly and with a regular weave. The wood has all been refinished as well, dark and able to hide stains well. The walls are colorful, but that goes with the territory of having a mutant roommate with Tag's ability. Today, it is a sage green with some abstract blue and orange intermingling in different places. Tomorrow it will be different. A cursory inspection shows that five people live in this four bedroom apartment, so it's difficult to pick out what belongs to any one person. When Melinda sets an alarm on her day off, she does so as gently as possible. Fifteen minutes before Hive is meant to stop by the alarm clock on one of Mel's coffee pots goes off, a switch is digitally flicked on, and water is placed over heat. Steam begins to curl from the top of the machine as boiling liquid is shunted upward, through the ground basket, then dropped low into the waiting carafe. The fragrance of freshly brewed coffee filters through the air, permeating the apartment and summoning one Melinda from her sleep five minutes before her intended guest arrives. She stands in sleep shorts and a baggy tee shirt in front of the machine, staring and inhaling the delicious aroma before waking up enough to grab a mug and pour herself some. Bzzt! That is Mel's buzzer. She has an incoming HIVE, dressed for work in heavy-sturdy workboots, thick tough jeans, a loose flannel shirt thrown on over a black sleeveless one. Never a morning person, even through months of having to wake up on weekdays for construction he still looks groggy at this hour, shadowed eyes drooping in a half-asleep sort of expression that belies the sharp-keen /alertness/ of his mind. Melinda takes a quick sip of her too hot coffee before setting it down on the counter, the jolt of mild pain doing wonders to wake up her expression slightly. She is quiet, physically and mentally, in no hurry to wake up, despite her guest, fully intending to go back to sleep when Hive heads off to work. She puts a little speed in her step and crossing the pseudo-dining room to the front door, peeking at the visitor, before unlocking the door and pulling it open. "C'mon in," she greets him quietly. "Hey." It's a quiet also-sort-of-groggy greeting, as Hive slouches is way inside. "Sorry -- early. Just with fucking work --" His head shakes. "Oh god is there coffee. I might be dying. Of no coffee." Though despite saying this he adds, "-- I only had /one/ so far today." Mel lifts a shoulder to shrug off the earliness of the morning and knowlingly leads the way into the kitchen before Hive begins to mention coffee. She smiles and actually waves him in when he asks about it. Then she's stretching to grab another mug for coffee, setting it down next to the pot. "For shame. You should have planned ahead and had a thermos. Isn't that what all the construction guys do? It's what my dad did." She moves to get some sugar for her mug, still intent on easing herself into awakeness. Milk comes out next. "Don't worry about early. I'm generally up at 4am each day." "I am shitty at planning it's too early for planning," Hive explains his lack with a small frown, slumping down against a kitchen counter. "-- Sometimes," he admits with at least a touch of sheepishness, "Flicker gets up and packs me coffee and lunch before I go." He draws a hand out of his pocket, though only so that he can lean his weight against that elbow on the counter. "M'kay. Apology rescinded. How're you?" "Mm... Okay." Melinda replies, spooning sugar into her cup and swirls it in the dark liquid, then she moves to the fridge to grab the milk. "How about you? You seem kind of unhappy over text. Everything's shitty?" She leaves the milk on the counter when she finishes adding some to her coffee, then goes to the pot when Hive doesn't pour for himself, and pours a cup for him. "Milk? Sugar?" "Oh -- shit right sorry," Hive only now seems to notice the coffee cup, eyes opening just a little wider as he reaches for it. "Nah black's good. Thanks. Uh -- yeah, everything's -- shitty. Kinda wanted to check in. Make sure /you're/ alright," and this is followed by a quiet grumble, "-- make sure /someone's/ fucking alright. Also see if Tag's OK. Didn't show up last game night. Doesn't answer my texts either but he's always a gorramn flake anyway." "Me? I'm okay. For now. Haven't had any violent assholes at work, so that's a plus. Head's healed." Melinda slides the cup of black coffee over to Hive, the image of the altercation a few weeks ago on her mind. "Here, wake up a little more," she speaks softly as the ceramic chinks softly against the tiles on the counter. "Been tossing around the idea of a SpeakEasy for mutants with a fellow restauranteer, but haven't gotten as far as to put legs on it. We're mostly shopping sites and daydreaming." She lifts her cup and takes a sip, considering, mind running through information until she pauses upon Tian-shin's face and Tag's situation. "He's... in rehab, voluntarily - but she wouldn't say where." "-- Speakeasy. Can we bootleg liquor?" Hive actually perks slightly, maybe at the coffee or maybe at this suggestion. "-- What." That's flat and startled enough that his coffee pauses halfway to his mouth. "What the fuck. Rehab? That's a crock of bullshit. He was clean when he left my place anyway and he wouldn't -- what." "I don't know," Mel's mind spinning, trying to wake itself up faster, given the current conversation. "I mean, I saw a bunch of needles on him a little while ago and he kept passing out all over the place like he was using. I guess it made sense because I was worried, but if it was really voluntary, why didn't he leave a note for the apartment with any sort of regard to rent?" She frowns at her mug before drinking deeply. "His sister was stubborn over the phone. I couldn't get much out of her and I didn't bring up the other stuff because I didn't want her to pay and him to be in debt to her on my behalf." "Hrgnh." Hive finally sips at his coffee, slow and tentative at first. "-- I don't know, I was in his /head/ for a /while/ and he didn't have any thought of going to rehab." One side of his mouth pulls up, twisted-lopsided, not really a smile. "Maybe I was fucking rehab. But then --" Another grimace. "His family could just be being dickbags. Committing people isn't always /voluntary/." There is an involuntary twinge of lonliness at the mention of Hive being in Tag's head, but Melinda shoves it down hard when it rises. "I... I don't know. Tian-shin seemed very genuine when I met her, but I don't know her well, or any of the rest of their family. Tag only seemed to speak highly of her." She takes another long sip of coffee before setting her mug down and wrapping her arms around herself. "I heard about the Shadow Lady and the police and military raid. The news didn't say much, but... did we know anyone else involved?" "/Hrgnh/," Hive grunts again. "Well. Still be nice to fucking /see/ him, at least. You know how to get in touch with her? I talk to her in /person/ I could probably get a place we can visit, at least. Bring some -- glitter, I don't know, I can't imagine rehab's /colorful/ enough for him." His eyes scrunch shut slowly at the other questions. He nods once, but doesn't answer immediately past that. He takes a slow drink of coffee, instead. "A lot of people, actually," he says, "like I said /everything's/ been shitty as fuck so I wanted to -- /fuck/." This last he breathes out with more than a hint of exhaustion. His posture wilts against the counter, shoulders crumpling inwards as he just /slumps/ further, hot coffee sloshing down over his fingers but only eliciting a sharp irritable /hiss/. Melinda's jaw clenches automatically when the coffee sloshes, knowing how that hurts without really feeling it. Her brows wrinkle up in a wince and she instinctively reaches out for Hive's mug with one hand while the other arm moves to hug him - but holds back. She looks up at his face with concern in her gaze. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm okay. How about instead I help you guys out. I'll get you Tian-shin's card, but... what else can I do. I have the rest of the day free." Hive dips his head to lick the coffee off his knuckles, still wincing as Mel reaches for his mug. "You're okay," he echoes, and though this is still in the default /gruff/ that his tone generally is, there's a definite concern visible in his expression. "Right. You're okay. -- /Fuck/, Mel, they." He swallows. "The kids were down there. During the raid. They're fine but how much more fucking /shit/ do those kids have to go through I don't know. And some -- soldiers nearly killed Jax and Micah. And --" His jaw clenches, teeth slowly grinding. His head bows. Mel takes the mug and places it on the counter before moving to gently guide Hive to the sink to run cool water over his fingers. She listens quietly, but her mind grows agitated at the thought of children being nearby, worse yet, involved in something that killed her friend's lover. If Hive goes with her prodding, she turns on the water on cool and holds his burned fingers underneath the stream. Her own jaw sets when Jax and Micah are brought up, instantly thinking of Spencer and whether or not she should volunteer for babysitting. When he finally stops speaking full stop, she looks up at him. "And?" Hive goes where he is led, relaxing with a hint of gratefulness at the cool water. His fingers curl lightly against hers. "-- And they took -- they took Jim." His voice is leaden-heavy. "Jim?" Melinda's throat tightens against tears at the sound of his name, her hands squeezing Hive's hand reflexively before they lose their strength, a tremor passing through them. "No." She whispers, her mind a rush of emotions, but very little thought, the conscious parts of her mind starting to focus on breathing regularly. "Oh god." Hive doesn't speak. His fingers curl again, wrapping around Melinda's. His arm curls around beneath her shoulders, pulling her in closer. Melinda turns toward Hive, her hands moving from the water stream to wrap in the back of his shirt, unwittingly spreading moisture to his back. Thoughts of Jim are wound tight around the fact that she still cares and cares deeply about him, despite the past few months. She does her best to breathe and not to cry. "We'll get him back," she says quietly, the words muffled against his shoulder and neck, echoed in her mind. "I'll call Murphy. We'll figure this out." The ache tightens her throat again, as everything washes over her again. Jim gone. Kids in danger. Jax and Micah nearly killed. Nox dead. The whole weight of it beginning to drop on her hard. "We'll get him back." "We're working on a plan. We'll get him back," Hive agrees grimly, lifting a hand to tangle fingers into Melinda's hair. "-- Good. Yeah. Call that motherfucker." His hold on Melinda is tight, bony arm curled snug around her. "I should get to work," he says with some measure of regret. "Just -- fuck. Just take care of yourself, OK? We're gonna get him back. I'll check in when I'm off." Melinda nods quickly when Hive seconds her notion to call Murphy and gives him a squeeze, damp eyelashes against his neck. She pulls away a little bit when he starts talking of work, and nods once more. "I will. Take care of yourself. And let me know what else I can do." Hive presses a kiss to Melinda's forehead, brief but firm. "Right." He pulls away with a sharp exhale, picking up his coffee mug to -- still kind of /wincing/ -- drain it in a few quick swallows. "If you get a chance, you might want to call Jax or Micah. Jax -- was out for days. Awake now, though. I bet they'd be glad to hear from you, too." He grimaces, before adding: "... maybe give Shane a hug at work." He turns the sink back on to wash his cup out. "Thanks. For the coffee." "Coffee's the least I can do." Mel gives him an extra squeeze when he kisses her forehead, letting him go and leaning against the sink. Still shaken, it takes her a moment to remember to turn off the faucet, only for Hive to turn it back on to rinse out his mug. She gives him a small smile, then follows him to the door to let him out. "I'll shower first, until it's a decent hour, then I'll... call." Hive just nods. Perpetually slouchy, there's nevertheless a heavier set to his shoulders, a heavier trudge to his step. "Right. OK. Tag's sister. Murphy. -- Right." His head jerks up in a nod, and then he trudges his way out.