ArchivedLogs:Cutting to the Chase

Cutting to the Chase
Dramatis Personae Felix, Jackson
In Absentia	2013-05-13 '
Location <NYC> 303 {Holland} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late bright coloured sealife has made its way into being painted on the wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Come Monday afternoon, Jackson's apartment smells like baking. There is a lemony smell in the kitchen, slightly faded but lingering from some hours earlier. The apartment is spotless, neat and polished; there's a boxy black bag dropped on the living room couch and a black Macbook and a drawing tablet on the kitchen table but otherwise not much by way of clutter visible. There's music coming from the laptop, some lively Kreisler violin piece. Jax is in the kitchen. There's a pot of water with the heat all the way up beneath it on the stove, and a covered pan with heat turned down to low; Jax himself is ignoring both of these in favour of his phone. He wears a very /harried/ expression as he looks at it, and his single eye is kind of sunken-shadowed, his scarred skin too pale. He's colourful otherwise, though; silvery vinyl skirt, brightly colored mismatched knee-high socks, black top with flowy sleeves. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Felix has arrived from his apartment upstairs. The smells coming from the apartment assure him that this is indeed the right door. Today he is dressed as per usual, blue jeans, button up shirt and sport jacket. Though he has made a bit more effort than usual to tuck in his shirt and look a bit more presentable. Perhaps he has more time for such things now that he is unencumbered with college. He waits patiently outside the door, perhaps just a tad nervous, he has not been in any of the other apartments in this building before. Meeting the other people in the building is something new. There's a pad of paws from inside the door, a quiet snuffling noise. It takes a moment longer for Jax to actually open the door himself; by the time he does his appearance is much changed. Scars vanished to leave his tattoos bright and unmarred, healthy colour to his skin, a splash of glittering-bright makeup on his lips and eye, chrome silver nailpolish, his hair deep blue streaked with vivider purple. A sparkling red star decorating the center of his eyepatch. He is holding back a small and very wriggly beagle with his ankle; the beagle is /also/ a little lopsided-looking, missing one eye though he has no eyepatch to cover its sunken droop. "Hi!" Jackson chirrups, heavy Southern drawl thick and cheerful. "Sorry, this is Obie," he gestures to the wriggly-excited beagle, "I hope you ain't allergic or nothin'. Come in! Um. An' if you could leave your shoes by the door that'd be awesome. How're y'doing?" Noting the dog, and the fact that it does not appear to be threatening as the door opens, Felix seems to have no problem with this. Although, he was not expecting a dog. "No, not allergic to dogs." Stepping into the apartment he honors the request to take his shoes off, and sets them in the place where it looks like they belong. "I am good today. You?" He takes a step into the room, taking in both the aroma and the ambiance of the room. Then, leaning down to say hello to the dog, making sure to let Obie sniff his hand first. "Smells great." Obie scampers forward once Felix is in the apartment and Jax has closed the door behind him. His nose presses up against Felix's hand, his hindquarters wriggling eagerly. "There's stroganoff," Jax says, "and cupcakes for dessert. Lemon-blueberry. Um, oh, /gosh/, I didn't ask if you was allergic to nothin'." His fingers skim restlessly through his hair. "How's life after school treatin' you?" Felix appears delighted at the mention of stroganoff. Now that Obie appears to be one of those dogs who clearly likes to be the center of attention, a good friendly scratching is in order. "My mother always made this for me growing up. It was the family favorite, and you can never go wrong with blueberries." he says with a measure of reassurance, indicating that he is not allergic to any of these things. "Life is good, the occasional substitute job for professors, and an odd job here or there, otherwise as I mentioned the other day, just waiting to find the right fit." It does not appear that he is in any hurry to run out and get a job just to have a job. By all appearances, he appears to be relaxed today, ready to enjoy some good food, good company, and perhaps some more good conversation. "Oh man," Jax's smile curls a bit wider, an edge of laughter in his voice, "does my lunch gotta compete with /mom/-stroganoff? I don't know if it's gonna compare. S'kinda improvised-stroganoff. Portobello mushrooms and a sprinkling of seitan 'stead'a beef." Obie is thrilled at the attention, pushing his head up into the scratchings as his tail wags furiously. "Just gotta put the pasta on to boil, it'll be a couple minutes. 'kai get you somethin' to drink? Water, juice, tea, coffee. Um. Blackberry soda?" He is drifting back towards the kitchen, peering into the pot of water and adding a sprinkle of salt and a dash of olive oil before dumping in pasta. "Mmm -- right. No soulless corporations. S'gotta leave you with a pocketful'a spare time, though, all that waiting. Y'finding worthwhile ways to fill it?" "I know, its always hard to compete with mom." Felix smiles, understanding that it is hard for another person to live up to those types of expectation. "It really does smell good, my taste buds are excited," assuring Jax that there is little to worry about and the meal will be great. He stops petting the dog and follows Jax to the kitchen. "Tea, please." Leaning up against the frame of the doorway to the kitchen, so as to stay out of the way while Jax utilized the kitchen. "Yes, I finally have time to socialize , make new friends, and read books that are not about mathematics. It is such a relief to finally have more free time, but I still need something a bit more worthwhile to fill the gap." "Read anything good?" Jax asks, bustling about the kitchen -- putting water on the stove, filling an empty mug with hot water from the tap, opening a cabinet to look at the couple dozen tins of tea inside. "Well. I been an activist for just about ever, I probably know a couple'a worthwhile projects lookin' for extra hands. Though, y'did mention last time some things that get you riled -- what sorta projects get you /excited/?" "Well, I just ordered a book entitled 'End of Games', it a philosohpy book that was recommended to me recently." Felix looks a bit perplexed at the mention of activist, as though he is trying to figure out just what the association is. But, they are in a more private setting now. "You mean mutant activist?" Apparently, after thinking about it for a moment, he decided that the need for tact is no longer necessary. "I am not one to be on the front lines. I prefer to remain as ghost like as possible. I have hacked into corporations and skimmed funds off, then made anonymous donations to deserving charities." He looks at Jax, waiting to see if he made the right assumption to be more blunt. Jackson stops right where he is, one hand drops to rest on the counter and the other hand falls to his side. He turns his one-eyed gaze on Felix, his head tilting to the side. "I didn't say nothin' about mutant activism," he says, slow and thoughtful, "I don't think I said nothin' 'bout mutants at /all/." "You did not mention it," Felix confirms. "It just seems logical, since you are one." He points to his eyes, as if he can perceive something that would otherwise be less obvious. "No, offense intended. I think it is best to stop dancing around the subtle little hinds and cut to the chase." Jax's eyebrows raise. "That's dangerous," he says quietly, returning to looking into the cabinet. He pulls out a tin of Darjeeling and measures some into a tea ball. Empties out the water to put the ball in and refill it with boiling. "Outing people who haven't outed themselves. In public it could get them killed. In private it could get /you/ killed." His voice has dropped quieter than its normal cheerful exuberance, soft and calm. "-- What is the chase, then?" Obviously Felix took a big chance with this, and he looks nervous at the mention of killing, especially it is directed towards himself. "As I said, no offense intended. Based on our limited conversation, I believe that you are on the same side that I am." The is a brief pause, as he thinks. "I had not given thought to the /chase/" It appears that he was certainly unprepared, perhaps even cought off guard by the response, clearly not the reaction he had anticipated. "I'm not," Jackson says carefully, "/offended/. Like I said, that's dangerous. Best to be careful. Most people don't exactly want it brought up all the time." He looks a little wry, at this. "Then again, most people ain't had it plastered all over the news." He glances away from Felix, down towards the cup of tea in front of him as it steeps. "No? But you gotta want something. Most people who come up to me to talk 'bout me being a mutant want to hurt me or want me to help 'em. Ain't a lot of in-between." "Ya, well, only if you can get my father to like mutants, then maybe I can go home." Felix clearly understands this is not something that Jax can provide, as indicated by the sarcasm in his voice. "Otherwise, I just want to make more friends, something I have not felt comfortable doing since my abilities showed up." He shrugs his shoulders a bit. "I am not that good at it, and all the different sides make things all that much harder." Forcing himself to cheer up a bit, "I have a great education, and some very useful skills and abilities, I will find a place to put them to /good/ use." Jackson's lips compress, his brows furrowing slightly. "Ain't never easy," he allows, softly. "This city's tough enough even without being a mutant." He takes the tea ball out of the tea, taps it lightly on the side of the mug and drops it into the sink. "Y'take milk or sugar?" He sets the mug down on the kitchen table, picking up his tablet and computer to move them aside. "Can't help you with your family. Ain't no kinda telepath. Friends I can help with, though. I know a lot of good folks around here. Who ain't gonna look down on you none for what's in your genes." Now that is the kind of friends that Felix would really like to have. "I like my tea plain." He picks up the freshly made tea and takes in the aroma. "I am really not worried about my father, he is who he is. Besides, I still get to talk to my mother occasionally." Taking a sip of the tea, he pauses a moment before adding "Well, I hope to meet some of these good folks." "You teach, right?" This seems like an offhand question, Jax saying it sort of absently as he moves to get a strainer, strain out the pasta. He offers Felix a quick warm smile. "Oh, I got no doubt you will. This building alone's full'a good folk. And there's a community here in the city that's -- well, s'good to have folks that got your back. Just takes a bit of looking to find them." "I can teach, but technically I am just a substitute at the moment." Felix returns the warm smile, and relaxes a bit now that the unpleasant conversation is over. He appears to be ready to sit down and enjoy this fine meal that Jax has prepared. "Math, obviously, and computers are my specialties, maybe a little philosophy on the side." Another sip of tea and he stops leaning against the door frame and then offers to help dish up the meal. "Good math teachers are hard to find," Jackson says a little wryly. He is serving up two plates, stroganoff ladled over beds of noodles, and offers one to Felix. "Well," he says with a quick grin, "let's see how I compare to your mother, hm?" And for a time conversation skews more pleasant, home-cooked lunch eclipsing more worrying concerns.