ArchivedLogs:Coming Home

Coming Home
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax
In Absentia	3 July 2014 Returning from the Clinic, patched and casted. (After the Prometheus raid.)
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. It is a lovely day in the city today, if ramping up to be a little too warm and a lot too humid by the afternoon. They've been promised rain to break the heat and humidity /both/ later in the evening. For now, the sun is streaming /cheerily/ through the windows as the door into Lighthaus opens to admit Micah and Jax. Slightly reversed from the expected pattern here, Micah is walking and pushing /Jax/ in a wheelchair with an elevated left leg rest, special care taken in steering to avoid running that lead leg into corners and furniture. He is dressed simply in faded bluejeans and a black T-shirt with a modified Starry Night sky in which an Impressionist interpretation of Serenity is flying on it, his olive newsboy cap still perched on his head from where it shielded his eyes from the sun. He pauses in the doorway to shut the door and remove his shoes and cap before continuing to the living room. "Home again, home again..." His smile is sincere but a bit tired. Jax has been very quiet -- on the drive home, but also in the stint at the Clinic that lead up to it. Intermittently checking in on his people. But mostly resting, quiet and bolstered by Dusk's blood helping his healing along just a little faster; the wound in his gut has been dressed properly and his face will likely still need a little bit of healer-attention later today when their hands are not quite so full. For now there's clean white bandaging swathing a good portion of his face, his good eye at least untouched if a little exhausted-droopy as they wheel back in. His broken leg is the most colourful part of him at the moment, brightly rainbow-casted in contrast to the rest of his bland attire, plain white tee and a pair of cargo shorts ferried over to the hospital from home. Possibly not even from Jax's home. There was kind of a /pile/ of available clothing for the labrats to ferret through and most of Jax's pants are too tight to slip a cast through anyway.. "Mmm. S'nice to -- I could sleep for a year," he answers Micah, head tipping back to look up at the other man. "Mmhm. I'm hearin' that." Micah glances around the surprisingly /quiet/ house. "Folks must be sleepin' or over the common house for the most part. I was half expectin' t'come in an' have people everywhere." His hand reaches over to pet at Jax's scalp idly. "I had 'em put folks upstairs. Might be some in the basement if they had enough t'overflow. Dunno how many are still tied up in medical care, though. You ain't gonna wanna handle stairs for a hot minute. Y'tired enough t'want the couch pulled out? Or wanna sit on the couch or...can stay in the chair. Wherever y'want. Should be some of the food moved over here as I made yesterday. An' there /had/ been sweet tea an' lemonade. Maybe. Can't promise anythin' 'bout a kitchen's been fulla other people while we were gone." "Oh -- oh, thank you." It's a little ambiguous as to which /part/ of this is earning the thanks but there's a quiet-pleased relief in Jax's voice that suggests it may just be for /handling/ so many arrangements of What To Do With People -- it never really gets /old/ having help for all the things the team used to have to struggle through organizing on their own while largely exhausted and injured. "Can y'pull it out. Lyin' down is. Nice. -- 'f you're there with me anyhow." His head presses up, nuzzling into the petting. Micah's hand continues its petting, only added to by leaning in to place a gentle kiss to Jax's forehead. "Sure can get y'over there. /Then/ y'let me know if y'need anythin' else." He tucks Jax in his chair a safe distance from the furniture moving before sliding the coffee table out of the way and tugging off couch cushions to lean against the back of the couch. When he folds the bed out, it is already dressed in fresh linens, though they need some serious straightening from the folding/unfolding process. A quick trip to the closet produces a few bed pillows that he adds to the head of the bed. "All set," he informs in a chipper tone before angling Jax's chair close to the bed, gently turning the footrests out of the way before moving to help Jax over. "Remember, no weight on that leg yet." Jax leans his weight heavily on Micah rather than on the injured leg, a little stiff as he makes the short transfer from chair to mattress. He sinks back against the pillows, hand sliding down to keep hold of Micah's even after he's settled. "Spence at camp?" he wonders absently, brows faintly creased as he looks up towards the ceiling. "And the pups --" Though they probably both have work. "... quiet feels strange, right now. Feels like it's been loud a /while/." Another dip helps Jax's leg up onto the mat after he's sitting more-or-less comfortably. Micah slips in next to the other man, careful not to jostle excessively. "Yeah, he's at camp by this hour. They have off for the holiday t'morrow. An' I'm pretty sure the twins're at work. Though at least /B/ should be off t'morrow, too. Officially, anyhow." He rubs gently at Jax's shoulder, choosing his points of contact /around/ known sites of injury. "Sure I can't get you anythin'?" Jax turns inward, settling himself in against Micah with his less-damaged side tucked up against his husband. He rests his head against the other man's shoulder, exhaling quietly. "A new team," he answers, finally. "Preferably trained an' ready, if you can swing it." Micah's arm snakes around Jax's shoulder, supporting and holding him close at the same time. A long, deep breath is the only reply to the request for some time. "Y'sure know how t'get t'the tall orders, don't you? I was thinkin' like...a drink. Or a fluffier pillow." He kisses his husband's unbandaged cheek. "Y'tryin' t'get the current team t'retire or...? 'Cause I'm sure things'll look better once the healers've had more time t'get people patched up an'...new parts regrown where they're needed." "Ain't the damage." Jax's reply comes with a small shake of head. "I mean, ain't the physical damage. They're burnin' out. They're /flamin'/ out. The way we -- the way I push 'em, it's places shouldn't nobody have to /be/ pushed. Hive don't even --" He quiets, here, nuzzling his cheek against Micah's shoulder. "Flicker's been doin' this since he were sixteen. I don't think there's a single part'a him left we ain't broke." The arm curls tight around Jax's shoulders...or as tight as it dares, recalling the broken ribs not far below. "I know, honey. Everybody...it'd be /nice/ if they could all just take breaks an' vacations an' normal life, but... Y'don't force nobody t'do this. Y'know how /livid/ most of 'em would be if y'/tried/ t'get 'em t'stop? Dusk was havin' fits over not bein' able t'go when he /couldn't/ 'cause of the monitor." Micah sighs, eyes falling closed for a moment, his hand moving to the more gentle work of rubbing at the back of Jax's neck. "Y'can /order/ people not t'go if there's a reason y'got to. But it's their choice otherwise, ain't it?" "Could've used him. Fff." Jax's voice is quiet already with a heavy tired, but it slurs a little more given that he's largely mumbling out of only the undamaged side of his mouth. "Yeah. It's their -- that's the problem, though. These choices. S'just too much -- too. Heavy for -- there's choices shouldn't nobody never have to make, Micah." His head tips just slightly forward, a small relaxation creeping ever so faintly into the tightly wound tension of his muscles at Micah's rubbing. "Hive wants off. I don't even know how to think about that. Don't think we can do this without him. But he needs -- God, he needs the break. Take a /rest/, get his head treated, have a /life/. Think we done push him way too far on this one." "I know they shouldn't /have/ to honey. World shouldn't ever put it in front of 'em. But it /is/ their choice, in the end. How'd /you/ handle someone tellin' you that /you/ can't do this no more? 'Cause /you/ keep comin' back beat t'goodness an' this is the second time you've been missin' half your face after one of these since /I/ been here, y'know." Micah's hand continues its work, encouraged by even the tiniest relaxation. "He...he does? Finally...he. Honey, we /got/ to. 'Cause he's needed t'stop an' get treated for so long. Will he go now? I'm just hopin' it's not too late." "Oh, I ain't even tryin' to /stop/ him, I just --" Jax's head gives a small shake. "Wish we hadn't'a pushed him so bad that --" He swallows, shifting his closer hand to rest against Micah's thigh, petting there slow and absent. "I near didn't come back this time, Micah. An' it weren't even cuz -- it weren't --" His fingers curl in hard. "Things got. So bad. Flicker was gonna die and Joshua was burnin' out an' Rachel needed like a dozen more hands to work with an' we was gonna start losin' so many people –" “Okay,” Micah answers softly. “I know, honey. We keep...almost losin'... But this time it weren't. Like the last time. I know.” His other arm wraps around Jax, as well, high to avoid the ribs and delicate in its very soft not-quite-squeeze. “Everythin' kinda went wrong this time, seems like. I was. It was... Tryin' t'get folks /to/ y'all was near impossible. We need t'start havin' the healers an' the teleporters /on standby/ for y'all. Was some folks I just couldn't get on the /phone/ this time.” "They had some /machine/. That turned us all /off/. An' folks had been trainin' on firearms with Kay an' Jane so it weren't a /slaughter/ but then Mihail jus' -- jus' --" Jax's fingers knead inward, again. "I didn't know what t'do. Bringin' the jet out, I'm fair sure that saved Jim an' Ash an' Ion entire but. We was gonna lose Flicker any /second/. It weren't. It weren't /like/ last time, I wanted to come home to you. But he -- he an' Jim was /both/ in such a bad way an' Hive couldn't possibly take -- an' we need him. More'n /me/ we need him. I jus'. How do you ever know what's /right/ to do when –" "Ohgosh. Like the darts but without chemicals? Wonder if we could get our hands on the designs..." Micah's teeth find his lower lip and dig at it thoughtfully, chewing things over. "Y'know. Would it be /horrible/ of us t'use the darts, too? It might be helpful t'turn off the rescuees' powers so they can't be used against the team. I mean...we'd make sure it was safe an' all first. But, t'put somebody on studyin' it in the /first/ place. Would that be horrible?" He hugs Jax again, a little squeezier but still lighter than he'd like. "Y'don't, honey. Y'try an' do what's best an' y'got t'do it /fast/. It ain't a philosophy class y'got time t'write a paper over." "No chemicals. Jus' some /thing/ built into the walls. I don't even know. A machine. Cuz Ion short-circuited it long enough for Ash to smash it t'broke rubble. An' /gosh/ but havin' the designs would be /useful/? Like at the school, if we put that thing in the medbay -- or in the Clinic -- there's /so/ many times when turning someone /off/ is so helpful." Jax's teeth start, habitually, to sink down to toy at a lip ring, but cease in this motion at the uncomfortable twinging from the burned side of his mouth. "An' I think -- think havin' a drug that. I mean, there's some folks who could /benefit/ from bein' able to /choose/ if their powers is on or not. M'sure there's a number'a folks who'd give 'em up entire if they could. Some people's powers is killin' them. Prometheus is horrible an' I don't even want to think about what's gonna happen once /mutant cure/ gets available widescale, but t'ain't nothin' /inherent/-wrong with wantin' that option." There's a little bit of quiet, after this, Jax just sinking closer into the hug. "Hive killed a kid," he finally says, fingers tightening once more against Micah's leg. "One of our labrats. An' I don't even know if he was wrong." "Huh. If we could find a way t'steal 'em. That'd be right useful. The Clinic could sure use some for an isolation ward, too. An' it's /temporary/. An' no introducin' drugs t'somebody's system. It'd be...helpful. T'have for /temporary/ uses, /voluntary/ uses." Micah backs away from the hug to avoid accidentally pressing too hard, hand returning to massaging Jax's neck instead. "It'd be a helpful drug for maybe the /Clinic/ t'develop. Make sure it's /only/ gettin' used voluntarily. An' that it's /safe/ first. Not...the way it's been goin'. I been wonderin' if it couldn't be adapted for long term use for kids like Sera an' Spence when they...need it." He falls quiet for a time at this last, his fingers working steadily, but his body otherwise still. "It happens, don't it? Sometimes it happens on these raids. I'm sure he had a reason...?" "Be real useful," Jax agrees, words sighed out a little softer as the neck massage continues. "Nabbed a few'a the unspent darts this time, too. If Dr. McCoy or the researchers down at the Clinic can figure out what goes /into/ it --" He swallows, giving just a tiny nod. "Could be so helpful. Cuz I don't know how we'll --" He quiets, here, stilling also save for slow deep breaths as Micah's fingers work at him. "It's happened. But not like this. We was in the vans already. Headin' back. An' folks was /dyin'/ an' I thought -- if I took a lotta Dusk's blood, we could have a better chance'a survivin' some of. Of -- if we took those injuries off an' put them on me an' Ryan maybe other folks would make it. But Jim -- was near dead already an' /he/ volunteered an' when Ryan told Hive to get Mihail to -- to transfer injuries t'/Jim/ he just." Another swallow, a small shake of head. "Dumped everything he could on this kid instead. I mean, kid was an inch from death already. One'a the ones Joshua'd black-tagged along with Flicker. Barely breathin' an' was unconscious already, I doubt he even felt -- but we coulda saved him. Shunted his hurts off into --" His body tightens again, tenser at Micah's side. "Yeah, that's what I was thinkin'. Hank or the Clinic or...somebody we know's gonna do right with it. /Help/ folks." Micah's fingers trace the long, thin muscles paralleling Jax's spine from head to shoulders. "Oh," is his only response for some time. "Coulda saved 'im /how/, honey? Who were y'gonna put Flicker's injuries an' Jim's injuries an' that boy's injuries on without killin' more folks? Likely anybody who took injuries that severe--on top of their /own/, 'cause ain't none of y'all come out smellin' like roses after this one--would've /died/. So if they did nothin', this boy an' Flicker an' Jim would've died. Maybe more. Or they could do somethin' an' minimise the death. It sounds like...Hive made a choice t'try an' minimise who died. An' picked the most critical person so they wouldn't hafta feel it. It's...rough, but it may've been the least /bad/ choice there was. From what I'm hearin', out here an' removed from it all, anyhow." The question of who they would've put the injuries on just tenses Jax further. He turns his face a little more against Micah's shoulder, squeezing his eye shut in time with a trace of wetness soaking into his husband's shirt. "I volunteered -- I just." His breathing is growing a little bit shakier. "... I think I'm makin' progress, though." There's a very /faint/ wry note of humour in his voice. "This time for once I ain't feelin' guilty 'bout bein' alive still. It's just. That shouldn't'a /been/ a choice Hive had to -- it was too much, Micah. To make him have to -- we can't keep." Another shaky-ragged breath. "... an' you know, all of this horror an' I can't stop the back'a my mind /already/ startin' to try an' plan for how to tackle Vermont." "Oh...honey..." Micah's hand slides upward, fingers curling around the back of Jax's head and cradling it where the other man rests against his shoulder. "I think you're one of those types as is /always/ gonna volunteer t'take the worst of everythin'. Don't know as /all/ of that's...the same as when y'were wantin' t'die. Might be you're /crazy/, still, but in a dif'rent way." His chin tilts, dotting small kisses along the top of Jax's head. "It's...again it's not a choice /anybody/ should have t'make. But Hive's got the bird's eye on the rest of you. He can sense how each person's doin' an' even the whole team's thought processes all at once without waitin' for people t'volunteer information. It's terrible, but he was kinda in the best place t'make that choice. An' if he's done after havin' to, that's...fair. Understandable. An' his choice." His fingers pet at the back of Jax's head. "I'd already been discussin' that with Hive before. Vermont. Once things've settled a bit an' folks is on the mend, we need t'get /everyone/ as knows anythin' 'bout those chips in the same room for a meetin'. We need t'know how t'turn 'em off remotely. Both from what those dreams been tellin' an' from...if Hive's not goin', y'all need /somethin'/ t'handle 'em." "I wasn't. Wanting to -- I was so scared, Micah. An' I /wanted/ to come home t'you. I jus' -- /Flicker/ was. An' the other labrats, an' Jim was fadin', an' Ion, an' Jane, an' Ash an' -- had to do /somethin'/. An' I weren't /orderin'/ him to kill nobody as couldn't even decide --" His tears are soaking more noticeably into Micah's shirt, his words quiet and shaky. "An' he do. Have the best bigger-picture view. It's just -- just --" He lapses back into silence, save for the intermittent hitches of breath and quiet sniffles coming from him. There's a faint wispy trace of shadow coiling up around his arms. "Soon. Soon as possible. /Talkin'/ an' /plannin'/ at least we can do even while we're all in wheelchairs an' bandages. We done put this off too long, we need. Need a plan. -- oh." His sudden exhale is sharp, a shaky burst of laughter. "... we got a Commons meetin' comin' up, too." He says it like he's found this sudden recollection a little surreal, a little absurd. Normal life continuing in the face of – everything. "It's hard. It's hard when y'gotta make decisions an' your friends is hurt an' dyin' an' y'don't know what t'do." Micah risks another hug at that shakiness, encircling Jax carefully as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of his head. "Soon. Just enough time for folks t'get stable an' be able t'think clear." He tries his best to stabilise Jax against him through that laugh. Laughter can be cruel to injured ribs and abdomens. "Ohgosh, yeah. Not 'til Saturday mornin'. I'm extremely surprised Dusk agreed t'that. Weekend. An' a time in the a.m." His cheek nuzzles close again. "I can talk t'Hive, too. D'you think that'd help? Or does he need...time?" Jax's breathing is hitching more, though the sharp unsteadiness here might be just as much twinges of pain as it is lingering tears. "Wanted to organize a riverside cleanup. Could bring that up, Saturday. An' weekly meals --" The hitching breaths calm, lulled easier by this calmer topic. "Don't know what he'd prefer," he admits, of Hive. "But I don't think he'd be shy 'bout tellin' you to piss off if he don't want to talk so prob'ly can't hurt none to check." With a small wince, a catch of breath, he pulls back just slightly, slowly starting to shift into a lying-down position. "Easy, hon. You're gonna give yourself hiccups if y'keep that up an' then we're just gonna hafta /sedate/ you at that point." A hint of a smile returns to Micah's lips, just a faint upward twitch. "Mmn, yeah, we /should/ take care of the river if we're gonna live next to it. An' the pups're gonna be /in/ it all the time. Be nice if it were in decent shape. An' the weekly meals thing seemed t'go over well as a suggestion at the last meetin'. Guess we just need t'make a signup an' decide which night an' all." Despite warning Jax off laughter, a little snort of his own breathes out. "Hive ain't never been shy. Sometimes he'll tell y'off an' try t'get you t'leave even when he don't mean it, though. I'll check in with 'im later." As Jax shifts, Micah changes his hand placement to help ease him back onto the pillows with a minimum of discomfort. "Good. I think he could use -- you. A friend. Who weren't directly /part/ of that mess." Attempts at halting laughter are interrupted again by another shaky (gaspy-ow) breath at the mention of hiccups. "... d'you want to come to Dragon*Con again with me this year? Whole art show thing last year went over --" His eye closes, a small smile on his face as he very carefully slides down a little further, shifting position slightly so he's only nominally against the pillows and /mostly/ actually leaning his head up against Micah's side. "Cuz -- we need to -- well." His small smile lingers. "'ve you seed /How to Train Your Dragon/?" Micah nods slow agreement, resolving to look for Hive later that night. "I'd love to, but I'm not sure...both of us oughtta go anywhere at the same time an' leave the kids up here. I'd hafta think about it. Maybe Dusk or somebody'd wanna go even if I can't." He reaches over to stroke his fingers across Jax's head as if petting at hair that no longer is present. "Ohgosh, no. I think that one came out when I was just finishin' school. Didn't see much of /much/ at the time. Been seein' the ads for the sequel, though, an' I was wonderin' if Spence saw the first one. Should take 'im t'see the second one. He loves dragons." "We can take the kids, then. This year we can actually afford that. Spence and B would have a /blast/. I don't know if Shane'd be much into the con but I think he'd love Atlanta. -- Dusk would be thrilled. He an' Hive an' Flicker /all/ got so huffy that I was goin' last year an' they wasn't." Jax's eye opens again, lighting /eagerly/ when Micah says he hasn't seen it. "Oh. Ohgosh. Oh/gosh/ because I got a costume for you. Can you get m'computer? We're gonna watch it /now/." "Well, that works out. Should get a whole group t'gether an' figure out arrangements for travel an' hotels an' all." A bright, broad smile sprouts at Jax's eagerness. Micah chuckles as he begins to extricate himself to retrieve the laptop. "Yessir. Guess we'll just hafta watch it /again/ if Spence ain't seen it yet. An'...should I be worried? Y'gonna try t'dress me up as a dragon?" He doesn't wait for the answer, clomping up the stairs and returning with the laptop first. Micah's extrication is made harder at first by the fact that even though Jax /just/ asked to get the computer he has a hand draped against his husband's leg that doesn't want to relinquish its hold. After a moment, though, he lets go, tucking his head back against the pillow. His expression is a little pale, indicative of lingering pain that he's trying not to pay attention to, but his smile doesn't fade as his gaze tracks Micah away. His eye is closed when Micah returns. "You'd be a fantastic dragon. But no. Though oh, gosh, if we got /Horus/ into a dragon costume –" Micah slips back into the couchbed, scooting over slowly to return to Jax's side. He opens the laptop in his own lap to get it booted up. “You okay, sugar? Need more pain meds or anythin'?” His expression wars with itself a bit, concerned eyebrows dragged down though there is a hint of laughter in his eyes as he chuckles at the image. “Ohgosh, /Dusk/ would make an unbelievable dragon, too. Of the batwinged variety. I'm guessin' you're not gonna tell me what you're wantin' t'put me in 'til after we watch it, though. Y'got it on here already or we gonna need t'stream?” "Streamin'. I think we can rent it on Amazon for a couple bucks. Dusk would be a /fantastic/ dragon. Y'ever see the teenytiny firelizard costume he made for Alanna? /So/ precious. I think Horus would be tickled /pink/ t'be a dragon though." Jax's eye stays closed though there's an image slowly-slowly taking shape down by the foot of the bed, Horus with a sharptoothed muzzle layered over his beak, feathers dyed to iridescent shades of gleaming black with metallic highlights, long spaded tail wrapped over his, talons recast into scaley clawed feet. In imagery the birdboy is alternately trying to look fierce and ruining the ferocity with sudden EAGER bursts of texting. "... does hurt a. Lot." This acknowledgment is softer. "Don't like my mind all fuzzy, though. Maybe jus' more snuggles?" “Mmhm.” Micah is going through the clicks and small bursts of typing necessary to get an internet browser up and navigated to the correct place to find the movie. “I'll prooobably be better able t'come up with costume ideas once we've watched it, but this sounds fun.” He nuzzles in against Jax's neck, placing a few slow kisses along the unbandaged side. “All the snuggles. An'...I'm assumin' cute dragons? T'act as a /distraction/.” "Oh." Jax breathes this out soft and happy, head tilting slightly at the kisses. "/Such/ cute dragons. An' /kisses/," he amends, nestling in against his husband's side. There's a glimmer of tears bright in his eye again, hand moving to drape loosely over Micah as he settles himself carefully into a position of least painfulness. "I love you," he adds with a soft nuzzle against Micah's shoulder. "Can't hardly remember how I even did none of this without you here t' fight 'long with me." Micah adjusts his position slightly to best act as a pillow /and/ resting spot for the upcoming movie. He lets it load for a bit before playing to minimise interruptions in the playback later. "Love you, too, sugar." The kisses move to Jax's cheek, in a spot with no wrappings over it. "Don't need to no more."