ArchivedLogs:Eviction

Eviction
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve, Ryan, Coulson
In Absentia	2017-02-08 "/You/ may be as loud as you like."
Location <NYC> SHIELD HQ - Jax & Ryan's Cell
This looks rather like a hotel room, capacious but extremely bland in color and decoration. The walls are eggshell white and immaculate, interrupted here and there with framed abstract art (mosty just uninspired blocks of color). The furniture is all in pairs, made of an easy-to-clean pale wood veneer. Two twin beds sit side-by-side, each with its own blocky nightstand and its own long-necked reading lamp. One corner is occupied by two desks with flat-screened computer workstations and shaded desk lamps. A long closet with mirrored doors is set into the wall, and recessed lights overhead provide ample illumination despite the lack of windows. The attached bathroom is covered in pale blue tiles and has two wash basins as well as a bathtub. It is, as it often is lately, pretty dark in this cell. Not /pitch/ black -- not right now. The sole illumination comes from the light of Ryan's computer screen, currently on though Ryan is not actually sitting at it. Cross-legged on the mattress in jeans and a black undershirt, Ryan has his violin tucked beneath his chin; at the moment he's filling the room with a quick and somewhat dissonant melody. Chaotic, jangling. There's something else filling the room as well -- a stirring sort of energy, fierce and deep. On the computer screen a program is recording, capturing the strains of music as they are played and transcribing the notes. Jax is curled up beside Ryan on the bed. Perhaps he is sleeping, perhaps not; it's hard to tell. He's dressed for it, at least, purple yoga pants and a soft and very old and worn blck tank reading '$pread Magazine'. His head is pillowed against Ryan's thigh, eyes closed. Agent Phil Coulson strides down the hallway outside, dressed in an impeccably fitted black suit. The night guards, less than an hour into their shifts, still look fresh and alert, and have already come out of their smaller room across from their charge's door. Coulson nods and offers them a tight smile. "As you were." Then he turns and knocks on Jax and Ryan's door. Trailing only half a step behind Coulson, Steve looks considerably less put-together in a rumpled white dress shirt with pale blue stripes, a crooked silver tie embossed with tiny five-pointed stars, and black trousers. He wears his shield across his back, and a sort of stunned, blank expression on his face. There's an abrupt stop to the music inside. An abrupt halt to the intense energy that comes with it. His voice is clear enough when he calls out flatly: "It's open." Jax doesn't answer. He burrows closer to Ryan's side with a very small grumble. Coulson opens the door and steps inside with a small, guilty duck of his head. "I apologize for interrupting your performance, Mister Black, and for intruding on your evening, but I thought that you would prefer to know sooner rather than later." He squints into the dimness, trying to make out Jax and Ryan. "Well, we /might/ have informed you a couple of hours earlier, but me coming to visit you during work hours would have drawn attention, and we needed time to make the arrangements anyway..." Steve also enters and shuts the door behind them. He pulls the chair away from Jax's desk and straddles it to sit facing Jax and Ryan. He waits patiently for Coulson to get to the point. And waits. And waits. Finally, he speaks up into the brief space of agent's hesitation, "They're releasing you. As of now. You can go home." Ryan stretches out when the door opens, flicking on the reading light beside his bed. His brows hike up. Up, up, as Coulson talks, his violin lowering to his side. His hand drops to Jax's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You planning on getting to a point tonight, secret agent man?" Though when Steve makes Coulson's point for him, his eyes only widen. He shakes Jax -- gently. Jax's eye cracks open. His arm curls around Ryan's knee, his jaw tightening when he looks toward the two other men who've entered the room. "S'late for company. You in trouble again?" "Gracias, Captain." Coulson blushes just a touch, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Oh, no, no. No one is in trouble. I'm just here to inform you that you're free to go." That slight duck of the head again. "DHS only told us a few hours ago that they've been ordered by the courts to release you. There will be no charges." Though he adds, hastily, "No charges relating to the raid on that Prometheus detention facility, at any rate. Again, I apologize, as I know this must be very disorienting!" "Apparently Homeland Security beseeched Nick Fury to let you go with as little fanfare as possible," Steve explains, his tone flat and unimpressed, "hence the timing and the secrecy. I get the impression the U.S. government finds this entire affair deeply embarrassing and would rather pretend that it never happened." Ryan's fingers tighten against Jax's shoulder. His lips twist to one side, nostrils flaring on a slow huff of breath. "Sucks for the government. I'm not rewriting half my album just to salve their egos." His eyes drop to Jax, lift back to Coulson. "No charges on /that/ raid. So the ten others we still /might/ be on the hook for, if they get their shit together one day? Sounds legit." "Are you for real?" Jax sits up abruptly, though his hand drops to Ryan's knee. His brows pull in tight together -- he's searching Steve's face a long while before he actually looks to Coulson. "Sounds," he says when Ryan is through, "like every other slipshod thing this administration's been doing this term." Coulson opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates. "Oh, I er...I don't know what their intentions are about the other raids, but I suspect the same political circumstances would apply. That is to say, if it's not worth their while to prosecute you for one raid..." He spreads his hands in front of him, shoulders hunching up slightly. "But, there's no gag order, Mister Black. They wanted /us/ to keep this quiet, but /you/ may be as loud as you like. Director Fury wanted to err on the side of extreme discretion as much for your privacy as our instructions from DHS." He fishes a smartphone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and consults it. "To that end, we can give you a ride home, if you like." "He's for real," is Steve's summary of Coulson's reply. "They've contacted Tian-shin already, so they should be ready at home..." The last word wavers just a bit. He swallows, a flicker of intensity in his eyes as he masters himself and continues. "There's not much paperwork for you to do, outside of signing for your belongings. I can help you pack up." "Gotta tell you," Ryan is finally releasing Jax's shoulder, sliding out of bed to find his shirt where he's left it hanging off the back of Jax's desk chair, "getting released in the middle of the night into the creepy black car of a hush-hush government agency that wants to keep this all on the downlow sounds like a good way to ensure my /permanent/ celebrity. I'm sure my album sales would be --" His tongue clicks lightly against his teeth, head briefly shaking. "But I'm not looking to die young in any tragic accident /right/ after our -- what you think, Jax? Unexpected release? Attempted jailbreak?" His tone is light, casual. He lifts a hand, claps it on Steve's shoulder. "Steve, man." The amusement in his voice comes with something else -- softer, warmer, gently buoying the taller man. "We never /un/packed." Jax's hand claps to his mouth, eye slightly wider. "Oh -- oh. Um. I think what Ryan -- um. I mean t'say, we can probably -- prob'ly find our own way -- um. Wow. Right. No, gettin' ready won't take. Long -- we really can just... go?" He is slower to stand. A lot unsteadier. If Coulson is much put off by Ryan's sarcasm, he does not show it. In fact, he doesn not even show any signs of having /noticed/ it. "I realize this is an incredibly awkward conversation to be having with your jailer." He pauses, frowning. "Frankly, this or /any/ conversation. Regardless, I wanted, on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., to thank you for your cooperation these last few months. We all knew perfectly well there was no way we could hold you if you decided to leave, and you treated us with such kindness and respect despite the circumstances." His lips press into a thin line. "I know we are not friends, but I wish you the best. Vaya con Dios." He waves, a little awkwardly, before turning to go. Turning back on the threshold, he adds, "If you need anything else while you're here, Captain Rogers knows how to get hold of me." Though sitting and looking quite solid, Steve leans into Ryan's hand, just a little. "I will stay with you, and if they should try anything like that they'll need to get through me first." There's neither anger nor bravado in this, his tone matter-of-fact. He pushes himself up, eyes tracking Coulson until the door closes behind him. "I was more thinking of the things you've accumulated while here, but if all is in readiness, I can carry boxes. Or make sure they get mailed back home tomorrow morning. Whatever we need to do to get you out of here." Pats Ryan on the shoulder. Goes to Jax. Offers a steadying hand. "Yeah. You really can. C'mon."