ArchivedLogs:Dusk Hunt

Dusk Hunt
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax, Eric	4 November 2014 '
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. The evening has long since grown dark, the combinations of autumn and Daylight Saving Time shenanigans stealing the sun away earlier and earlier. Micah has managed an earlier day than usual, too, it would seem. He is showered and dressed again in non-work clothing: rainbow polka-dot socks, rainbow patchy bluejeans, Doctor Hooves nouveau tee pulled on over a slate long-sleeved henley. Meanwhile, he has also filled the kitchen with bustle and cooking smells, garlicky greens on the stove top and spicy butternut squash in the oven advertising cumin, coriander, cinnamon, and ginger predominantly. The orange ginger tofu triangles in the oven are masked rather thoroughly by the spicier squash smells. Micah stirs at the greens, a step back from the stove as Obie sits at his feet hoping vainly with all of his little puppy hopes that some Food might find its way to the floor. Today in a change it's Jax who's getting in later, only just arriving back from the studio. By the door it takes him a little while to unbundle, scarf and hat and jacket and boots all tucked away in the entryway closet; maybe overkill for the fall weather but despite being a furnace of heat for people /around/ him he tends to feel the cold acutely. After shedding layers he's left in a rainbow colour-blocked sweatshirt over a bright yellow Little Miss Sunshine tee, black skinny jeans with colourful mismatched knee-high socks pulled on over them. "Oh, wow, it smells /fantastic/ in here I'm starvin'." Jax slips into the kitchen, pecking Micah on the cheek as he sneaks a hand around his husband to pluck some greens from the pan and pop them into his mouth. Not too long after Jax slips into Lighthaus, there's a knock at the door. It is a quick, rhythmic rap of knuckles against the wood - one two, four and five - loud enough to be heard, certainly, but quiet enough to sound like a request, rather than a command. Stepping back from the door, Eric's white teeth flash a bright smile towards the peephole, thumbs slipped through the beltloops on his black jeans. The jacket that covers up most of his dark green turtleneck is a matching color and seemingly for fashion as much as for warmth. A strappy, glossy leather-looking thing with a beat up look a little bit too fashionable to not have come right from the rack. It doesn't seem to have too much in the way of insulation, but the cold doesn't seem to be bothering Eric even so, considering the 'antique' zipper hanging unused in halves. Obie is /torn/ when the door opens as to whether to go running after Jax or to stay close to the food. In the end, he sits tail a-wag and body all but vibrating until Jax enters the kitchen, only to headbutt the man repeatedly in his calves as he steals food. "Mmn, thanks, hon." Micah pauses to accept kisses and give a half-hug with his non-stirring arm. "Should be ready here in a sec. S'always soon t'be up once the greens're on. Table's set except for the servin' dishes an' any drinks folks want. I picked up some hard ciders an' ginger ales on the way home." His lips pull into a lopsided smirk as Jax sneaks the greens. "You're as bad as Obie, waitin' for food bits," is clearly just a tease delivered as he switches the gas off under the pan and starts to transfer the contents over to a serving bowl. He perks suddenly, looking to the door at the knock. "Well, that was well timed. Y'mind grabbin' the door, sugar?" "But I'm /dying/ of starvation," Jax complains -- with a hopeful wag of tail and prick of floppy ears that he definitely didn't /have/ two seconds before. The tail-and-ears (both bright shades of green-and-purple that match the current tone of his hair) sprout just long enough to complete the Eager Puppy look before fading away. He licks his fingertips clean once the greens have been Thiefed. He stoops to scritch at the beagle's head with his non-food-stealing hand, moving on to manhandle the dog to the floor so that he can deliver bellyrubs. The knocking at the door interrupts puppycuddles; Jax straightens to dash for the door, pulling it open with a quick flash of smile. "Eric. Hey. Thanks for comin'. Micah's jus' got dinner on the table, if you're hungry?" "Yeah, starvin'. That sounds great, Jax." Eric's smile brightens as he looks over the other man, stepping forward to give him a very brief but tight hug before leaning down to undo the laces of his sneakers and slip off to pad, black sock clad, across the floor to repeat the hug against Micah, holding it a second longer than he had with Jax before pulling back with an overly innocent look hanging on his face. "Heya, Micah. Anythin' I can do ta' help?" "Mm-hmm. That's the same tune he's been puppy eyein' at me since I started cookin'." Micah sets his bowl and spoon aside to give Jax headscritches, because it's practically mandatory. True to Jax's word, Micah has the bowl of greens and casserole dish of squash squares on the table before Eric makes it to the kitchen, the other dish of tofu waiting on the stovetop to be transferred, as well. Micah leaves off his food tending for a moment to return the hug. "Hi, hon. S'good everybody's starvin' t'day. Made a ton of food. Ain't much left for doin' other'n takin' the tofu out. An' I already got the mitts on. Oh, though drinks're in the fridge. S'hard cider an' ginger ale an'...some kinda juice prob'ly. I can make a tea if people want somethin' warm." He takes up the tofu dish once more to deliver it to the table. Jax's return hug is warm -- moreso in /temperature/ than in quality, a fierce heat lingering in him though in terms of actual /hug/-time he keeps it brief and polite. "M'fine jus' with the ginger ale -- y'want a cider, sweetie?" He is digging in the fridge, bottles clinking as he pulls out a ginger ale. "What's good for you, Eric?" One foot nudges Obie gently back out of the way as the beagle tries to poke his face into the fridge. "Maybe warm once dinner's /done/. Feel like I might could need somethin' comfortin' soon enough." "Yeah, I can imagine he's been givin' ya puppy eyes." Eric teases, following it up after a pause with, "The food smells delicious." He calls out a bit louder towards the kitchen, "Cider sounds great for me, thanks, Jax." He glances back and forth between Micah and the kitchen beyond, then turns to the table. It might already be set, but he makes himself look busy as best he can anyway, adjusting the layout of the silverware so things are just so. Micah plunks the tofu down before removing his oven mitts, leaving those at a corner of the table in case someone needs to handle the still-hot casserole dishes. "Cider's perfect, hon, thanks. Could do some chai or cocoa later, maybe. I got apple slices all sittin' in cinnamon-nutmeg sugar s'just needs t'be heated up all melty for dessert later, too. S'like apple pie without the disaster of me bakin' a thing." His nose crinkles slightly with a self-deprecating smile on that note. He stays standing until Jax makes his way to the dining room. "It sounds basically perfect," Jax declares, of the dessert. He takes two ciders out of the fridge, nudging the door closed behind him. He makes a quick stop en route to the table to open the cider bottles, setting one down at each of the other places before taking a seat himself. "... we want to talk about the Serious Stuff now or wait on actually enjoyin' all this food first?" Eric sits down at the table, smiling at Micah. "It sounds delicious, and 'M sure that your baking ain't as bad as ya think it is. It's not exactly fair ta have to measure your skill at bakin' against your husband's neither." He shakes his head, grinning. "You don't see me complainin' I'm not a good biker 'cause Lance Armstrong can beat me out, do ya?" Eric's smile fades slightly and he looks over at Jax. "Let's get the ugly stuff out a' the way while we eat. What's goin' on with Dusk?" Micah pulls a chair out for Jax when he returns, taking his own seat after. "Oh, clearly this one's never had anythin' I tried t'bake. I'm not exaggeratin'. I think I had a curse put on me as an infant or somethin'. Things go /very/ wrong. Things're usually underdone an' burnt at the same time. Occasionally there's fire." He plucks up his cider and takes a long swallow from it before answering Jax's question or Eric's follow-up. "What's /been/ wrong. S'in jail an' convicted for defendin' 'imself. He hasn't had a drop of blood since he's been in. We been in discussion with a friend t'work out smugglin' blood to 'im. An' were comin' along on that plan when the friend went t'see 'im an'...he weren't there. Other folks in lock-up said he'd been moved. The why of it...s'all rumour. Either they were afraid he was gonna attack someone or he /did/. Don't know how bad it was but we don't know /where/ he is, either. Need someone t'/find/ 'im." "It's as bad as he thinks it is," Jax assures Eric cheerfully. "What you think all the fire extinguishers we got tucked around here are for?" The cheer fades as he rises, starting to serve up food onto each person's plate, starting with Eric. "That's about the sum of it. We want t'find out where he's bein' kept. We don't want to do nothin' /drastic/ --" Though here he hesitates with a deep blush, dipping his head as he sets Micah's plate back down, laden with food. "-- I mean, not no /more/ drastic than sneakin' into jail is. But he's gonna /die/ if he don't get blood into him, an' that ain't no exaggeration. Day his verdict come in, he literally couldn't even walk out the courtroom on his own. An' if the county ain't gonna feed him, someone's got to, or he won't even make it /to/ sentencin'." Eric's smile fades as Jax's does, listening to the two men speak. "Shit. They're supposed'ta have been giving him accommodations. It's state policy for..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Motherfuckers." He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, taking a long breath in and out. "Shit. Alright." He turns and gives Jax a searching look. "What are ya goin'ta do if I can get ya his location? I might be able to do it, but I ain't got the same kind of pull I used ta." He looks back and forth between the two men, then runs a hand through his hair. "If I can do it, I'll need some assurances from ya. That this ain't a rescue mission." "Hey. I know better'n t'do any bakin'. The extinguishers're for /you/, Firebug. Well. 'Cept maybe the one in the kitchen." Micah gives a nod of thanks to Jax for serving up food. "We got ways t'get in. Bring 'im people he can feed from. Blood packets. Keep 'im alive. Where he is an' any information 'bout 'is situation'd be real useful." He nods at Eric's request for assurances. "I can give y'that assurance for now. We don't wanna make a fugitive out of 'im. After sentencin', though. Might need t'revisit that assurance, t'be perfectly honest with you. He's got friends already itchin' t'spring 'im." "/Is/ a rescue mission," Jax insists with a frown, filling his own plate heavily and sitting back down. "Only not the kind for breakin' him /out/ of nowhere. Jus' the kind for savin' his life. I don't think the state considers /blood/ a reasonable accommodation -- but he's /gonna/ die." His lips press together thin, and he curls his finger tightly around a spoon. Then sets it back down, just staring down into the plate. "We jus' want to make sure he's okay. That's all. Springin' him outta jail right now, that'd be dumb. He wouldn't have a life t'get /back/ to." "It should. Conditions necessary for life, n' all that." Eric nods his head along with that the men say. "Yeah, I hear ya. I just gotta say it, or I won't be able to sleep at night, ya know?" His smile is brief, but genuine. "Alright. Well, I got a couple'a ideas where he might have gone, n' I have a few contacts in the prisons that ain't forgot they owe me favors, freak or not. I'll hunt him down. If he's still in jail, I'll find 'em. What should I do when I do?" Micah lifts a fork, but only to prod at his tofu triangles until they break into smaller pieces. "That's the argument we been makin'. Same argument, same doctors, same lawyers as when he was in with Jax. But they just aren't payin' no mind." He nods, reassured when Eric agrees to help. "Let us know. As much information as y'can. An' we'll set up with our friend who can get in t'get in an' get 'im fed. Time's...kinda of the essence, though. We wanna do this quick as we can, 'fore it's too late." "That were federal, though, so s'like all the progress from then jus' been lost now he's in a different system." Jax scowls down at his plate. "Plus an' that other time, was /so/ high-profile -- guess it'd have /looked/ bad on the news lettin' us die in prison. But this, this is jus'." He exhales heavily, forcing a small smile as he looks back up at Eric. "Thank you." This is quiet, but warmer. "I been worryin' myself sick." "Federal prison's got a lot more money, and better policies n' the state ones do." Eric shakes his head and shrugs. "And I ain't got nearly as many connections in it." He taps his fingers on the table, looking at Jax with a small smile. "He's my friend too, ya know? If I can help, I'm gonna. I miss him too." He picks up his cider and takes a long swig of the liquid, draining a quarter of the bottle in a single go. "I'll have a bead on him by tomorrow mornin'. Ain't too many places he could be." "We /did/ play that card pretty hard when y'all were in. Would've slathered it all over the media if they tried t'kill y'all in jail, quick or slow-ways." Micah's jaw tenses, those memories bad enough without reliving them in part now. "We end up sneakin' 'im people periodically for any kinda time? Y'might be better suited t'that than most of us. I know your position might make that...more of a risk than it does for others, too, though. Just. Thought I'd bring it up, since y'said." His head bobs in a brief series of acknowledging nods, given Eric's assurances. Then his fork spears some greens to a morsel of tofu to push the lot into his mouth. "/Can/ kinda, um," Jax's cheeks flush deep red, "get his -- fill. On. You. Oh, wow, that sounds -- awkward. But I mean, anyone else, it'd take sneakin' people in day after day -- 'least with you he can --" His nose wrinkles, and he lifts a hand to run at the back of his head. "Y'know." Eric nods at Micah, tilting his head to one side as he considers. At Jax's stammering, though, his smile spreads wide and he laughs, shaking his head at Jax. "He can have his fill a' me, is that what you were going ta say?" His teasing tone only gets more as Jax's flush deepens, and he grins at Micah. "Certified organic, ya know. And more'n enough for two, for that matter." He turns the teasing grin onto Micah, next. Micah's eyes slide down to his plate, a hint of flush rising in his cheeks to echo Jax's. "Can eat enough without worryin' 'bout killin' you, s'the picture of it." His shoulders shake just a little with a hint of suppressed laughter. "Pretty sure we only got the one vampire needin' t'be fed, thankfully," he answers with one slightly lofted brow before reaching for his own cider. "Yeah, I don't -- really need none'a your blood, m'/pretty/ good with this squash." Only now does Jax remember -- after a brief pause to bow his head over his meal in silent prayer -- to actually /eat/ the food in front of him. "... which is /delicious/ by the way oh my gosh. An' maybe can actually enjoy it a little more thinkin'a Dusk /not/ starvin' t'death." "There's more'n one way to have your fill, ya know. Or get filled." Eric says, sticking his tongue out briefly at the other two men before picking up his own fork and running it through the food. Spearing a little bit of greens, tofu, and squash all together, he takes a bite of it and lets out a low, appreciative sound. "Why aren't I eatin' dinner with ya'all all the time?" Eric asks, hurriedly loading up the fork with more to keep shoveling it into his face.