ArchivedLogs:Ex-hibit

Ex-hibit
Dramatis Personae Jax, Elias	2014-05-22 Shortly after the small excitement at Jax's gallery opening.
Location Art Gallery
A chic gallery in Chelsea known for showcasing innovative and provocative emerging artists currently displays the work of one Jackson Holland, an upcoming graduate of Cooper Union. On the walls hang his paintings -- the product of the better part of a year of his work, a series of portraits, mutants all of them. "Humanity", is the simple title of the exhibit, even if not all of the portraits seem to display much of that. Some of the paintings are plain enough. Daiki in mid-lunge with a fencing foil, Flicker and a woman with a large poof of Afro engaged in an apparently intense game of Magic, Ryan (/his/ picture has garnered a lot of attention) with his violin. Some -- draw more comments. Dusk perched on the Lofts roof with his huge wings draped to the side of the wall for balance. Taylor and Hope snuggled up on a couch watching television, his tentacles twined in between her sharp shards of bone spikes. Horus grooming Clarice's quills into place. The twins puppy-wrestling on the pier, one's sharp claws dug into the other's side, the other's sharp /teeth/ sunk into the first's neck. /Grinning/ but bloody. The security in the room recently has been -- kiiind of more alert. There's also a number of /police/ circulating where there weren't before. Jax has finally managed to detach himself from questioning, looking just a little harried -- kind of paler than before, slightly /wired/ in his tense energy. There have been changes to his usual decorations, fewer piercings than he once had, the skull tattoo visible on his shaved head /different/ (its eagle-head is now a raven, its dragonfly-wings now large dark bat-wings) but otherwise he is -- well. Makeup as glittery as ever. Very bold purple-and-cream suit -- though there's a bit of an unsteady shake to his hand as he reaches for a glass of juice that threatens to spill cranberry juice onto it as he drifts away from the refreshments to linger near -- a painting of Vector, actually, pale and haggard and drooped against the chain of a swing on a playground in Tompkins Square. (This painting has earned about as much attention as Ryan's, though not in a very /pleasant/ way.) His eye scans the room restlessly, teeth sinking down against his lip ring to worry at it in habitual tic. A new figure is hesitantly stepping through the door. He's tall, with wavy dark brown hair, tousled professionally in such a way that the locks still appear to be soft, but stay where they are supposed to. His skin bears a paler than usual tint, but still holds the Mediterranean olive of his Greek ancestry. A short, well shaped and cropped beard covers his cheeks, shaved clean off his neck, and twisted just a touch to compliment the concerned/perplexed expression on his face as slate blue eyes dart here and there at the buzzing security and circling police. He almost looks wary about entering, but his feet keep carrying him forward. Dressed in a plain, light weight, charcoal gray suit, he cuts an elegant figure. A vest of tight houndstooth in gray and black cover his torso, from belt buckle to just below the knot of his gray-blue satin tie, the collar of his white shirt embracing the small bit of color gently at his throat. He directs well shined shoes further in still, heading for the drink table for a moment, reaching for a cup, until his gaze is drawn upward, drawn in by the colorful artist near by. His eyes narrow a little to study him and take in the changes, but there's less of a perplexed look mixed in with his concern and more of a blush and a shy smile. He turns away soon after, turning his gaze upon the drinks in earnest to select one. Some of Jax's fretting restlessness eases as his gaze sweeps the room and ticks off his family in turn, reassuring himself of their safe whereabouts. Shane, check. B, check, Daiki, check. Husband -- he stops mid-sip of juice, hiding his brief splutter-cough behind one cupped hand. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, eye faintly wider as he watches Eli at the drink table. His own cheeks flush dark, his gaze lowering for a moment to his cup, shyly as well. His fingers curl tighter around it. Another small cough clears his throat enough to take a /proper/ drink, and he dabs at his faintly (spluttercough!)watery eye with the back of his hand, slipping over towards the table. His thick drawl is quiet when he speaks. "Hey, Eli." Elias is lucky in the fact that he saw Jax first and without liquids near his mouth. He lifts a glass of water and takes a sip as he turns, brows darting upward at the address. His glass and brows lower after a breath, revealing a small, hesitant smile. "Hey. Jax." He brings his other hand up briefly, then pulls it in, using both sets of fingers to cradle the drinking vessel. "Congratulations." He speaks as if in short bursts, well bridled enthusiasm peeking through his words. "I couldn't stay away. Years of hard work. Wanted to see the end. Hope... it's okay." Jax's smile returns when he sees Eli's, small and tentative, too. His hand lifts, skimming fingertips lightly against the very bold-fresh ink atop his skull, and he nods once, quickly. "Thank you. S'been -- kinda a. Trip." His blush deepens, hand shifting to flutter fingers at the wall. "It's -- it's okay. It's good. It's -- thank you. For -- coming. And. We got your -- the clothes y'sent, that was. Real kind, things was --" He cuts off his awkward stumble of words, drawing in a deep breath. "How you been?" Eli studies Jax with a polite gaze, something he hasn't been able to manage as of late. Before he left, he was left with either staring intently, or a distracted haze that left his eyes focused on anything other than the face of the person he spoke to. Now, his eyes follow Jax's hand up to his tattoo, lips twitching - almost pursing at the differences in the artwork. "You're welcome," he begins, attention drifting a little lower when he speaks of the clothing, his tie receiving a little more attention. "I know how hard it is to get clothes for the twins. Couldn't just get them something when all of you lost so much." He grows red in the cheeks and along the rims of his ears when Jax asks after him. His gaze remains distracted and pointed elsewhere while he rides through the bulk of his embarrassment with a soft and drawn out 'aahhh.' He returns Jackson's gaze with a small smile. "I've been doing better. Went to see that specialist everyone recommended. There's probably nothing he can do immediately about all the bad habits I've formed over the last few years, but the physical stuff... it's improving." He lifts a hand off his glass to wiggle his fingers near his temples to indicate brainy stuff. "They are hard t'shop for," Jax allows with a small curl of smile. "S'all that good /style/ y'crammed in there." His teeth click against his lip ring again, wiggling at it slowly. "Specialist?" His brows raise uncertainly. "Oh! Oh -- that's --" His eye widens, his smile brightening along with it, albeit a little crookedly. "That's good. That's good, right? How does it -- feel? How d'/you/ feel?" "Ha. Come on. Cramming loud and colorful style, elegant and gallant in places and feminine and flowy in other places ... was one of the more cathartic projects I've worked on in a while. I just hope your - uh, husband didn't think I was being too forward. He deserved some clothing, too." Eli scratches as he tucks some of his hair behind his ear, taking a sip as talking of Jackson's love causes him a little nervousness. "As for my head - well. I am - ah, overwhelmed. Everything is sort of speaking to me again after being in a quiet dark room for a long time. I'm - no where as good as I used to be. I suppose it's like learning to walk again." he returns Jax's smile, matching crookedness if not brilliance. "It's... good." "No. It was good. It was helpful. And for B it was especially -- he was having a really hard --" Jax stops, catches himself with a deeper blush, a small shake of his head, "Ze was having. A hard time. And I think having things ze felt comfortable in was really --" He lifts a shoulder, takes another drink of cranberry juice. "Can take these things slow though, right? I mean. Probably overwhelmed is -- well I don't know what normal is anymore," he admits with a small crinkle of his nose, head dipping with a breath of laughter. "But seems like a overwhelmin' /situation/. Can take your time. Feel it out. Let it --" He lifts his shoulder again. "Be good." "Are we using ze now?" Eli asks quietly, almost hushed as if trying not to offend someone in hearing range. "Or.. should I wait for that discussion?" Brows that knit together as he waits on the answer, start unfurrowing when the topic changes, a small nod of acceptance at Jax's encouragements. "Yeah. It's not like I have rush back into the public eye or even a social situation. I ... can just take it slow -- unless you need help with something raid related." He grows serious as the topic shifts, his attention intent. "It's been too long since I've helped with that - in most capacities." "Yeah. Well. We're not using he. Past that B's kinda been pronoun-agnostic just at the moment. Ze, they, she, it, s'not real picky." Jax's eye slips around the gallery at the mention of the raid, almost absently resting a hand against Elias's elbow to steer him deeper into the gallery and a little farther from a nearby trio -- including one reporter -- gathered around one of the works. "We got the suits, too. They helped -- so much on the last. Saved some lives I think." His voice has dropped lower, leaning in a little closer to Eli with talk of the raid, and his fingers curl tighter against his cup, relaxing only when he takes a sip. "Always could use help though. I don't know when we'll be. On the last one they. Had some drug. I don't," he tells Eli very quietly, "have my powers no more. Not Joshua neither. Coupla my other team. Not exactly news I want to be spreadin' what with --" He glances up towards the ceiling with its new bullet hole. "But it's -- things is. We definitely need the help." Elias is easily lead wherever Jax wishes to go, his posture remaining casual as they walk through the different displays, his eyes wandering across the ones they pass. When they move into the more secluded section, his eyes slide back over to Jackson, studying him as he leans close, that redness reappearing the rims of his ears only in proximity. "Drug? Power loss?" Eli's expression starts to grow reserved, thoughtful as he listens, his jaw clenching as he considers. "Delivered how? Do you need me to secure gas masks?" His eyes lead the tilt of his head toward the hole in the ceiling, his words slowing as he stares, a little agape in the silences. "...So that's why things are tense. Everyone's okay?" His free hand rubs a little against his side, restricting an impulse to hug. "Drug. Not -- entirely sure what --" Jax's brows rumple, head giving a small shake. "Docs at the clinic an' the school is lookin' into what exactly it /is/. See if they can -- fix it or. If it'll go away or -- what." His hand trails down against the outside of Eli's arm as it falls away from the other man's elbow. "Darts. Little -- dart things. Full'a. Drug. An' everyone's okay, jus'. Jus' real shook up, an' -- you know. Adjustin'. S'a lotta -- tiny things I never even /thought/ about -- until this --" His grin curls up bright and crooked again. "Like did y'know I'm diabetic? /I/ didn't know. Till now." Eli looks concerned and partially crushed at the description of Jax's situation. He nods slowly and considers. "We can likely affix more plastic shielding to the exterior of the suits. Helmets and neck guards will help too. If we have an idea of the dimensions of the needle involved, we can combat it with thickness, perhaps." he inhales deeply, his hand reaching up, almost to Jax's elbow, but it closes into a fist and starts to drop away, two knuckles only grazing the side of Jax's suit as it falls away. "You'd hope you could just flush it. I am so - filled with sympathy at the situation you're in. Words are just plain awkward now, you know that. Forgive me." "Was the neck that got me," Jax affirms, hand lifting to touch fingertips to the side of his neck as if he might still /feel/ the sting of the dart there. "‘nother teammate got hit in the eye. Helmets -- we could use." His breath catches, and he drops his gaze to watch the trail of Eli's knuckles against his suit. "M'really hopin' it jus' -- passes. Cuz this is --" He blushes, deep and fierce. "Well. I don't gotta tell you it's hard. There's -- two more. Facilities we know about. Still gotta plan the logistics of -- everything." Elias inhales deeply and nods, his thoughtful gaze growing distracted. "Helmets with face plates - full riot gear. Won't give them a square inch," he replies quietly, making mental notes, his gaze locked low on Jax's hand before his attention is pulled upward to Jackson's face. "It's not who we are when we are without. We are not... If you need someone to talk to about it, I am available, but - any caveats and restrictions you wish to invoke are entirely up to you and your husband, given the history we share. I just - it's not easy to lose them, to face the prospect - yeah." He finishes his water before turning to scope out a place to set down the glass. "I can help with the other two facilities." Jax nods at the mention of helmets, of riot gear. His fingers clench and unclench against the glass in his hand, his own expression a little tight. "Yeah, that's -- we should. Plan. Talk about it. Soon. With the team --" His gaze drifts off across the room to where Flicker is talking with Jane near the entrance. "Been slacking since the last one," he admits, "like once I lost my -- like I stopped takin' /responsibility/ after that too. I should -- we should." He breathes in deeply, and nods, a slow smile creeping across his face. "Thanks. Might be nice to have -- s'been scary." "You've been through something huge. Everything is disorienting and nothing feels right. One of your senses is completely gone. It's not something you bounce back from in a couple of days, especially with a health complication like diabetes." Eli leaves the glass on a passing waiter's tray and turns his attention back to Jax. "I'll work on the gear for now and we'll... really worry about the team tomorrow or the day after. Right now, you're in the middle of an event that is... well, it's about you and your art. I think you're supposed to be out there enjoying yourself and talking with people, maybe selling things if people are interested." His smile warms. "Not hiding away with your ex talking about tomorrow's problems." "Right. Right. Gosh. M's'posed t'be --" Jax gestures towards the rest of the gallery, its milling crowd, with a deep blush. He looks back towards the wall -- they're settled somewhere between a painting of Liam (candles throwing uneven light on his face as he tears a challah loaf to pass it around a table) and a freckle-faced redhead with goggles on seated in front of a lampworking torch, though she's pulling at the molten glass of the figurine she's currently working on with her bare hands. Then back to Eli. His smile hooks -- uncertainly, lopsidedly -- a little higher. "I'm -- it's. Good to -- thank you. For comin', it. I just -- thanks." "I'm... uh, taking it slow, socially for a while. Not used to any of it, but if anyone needs me, you know how to reach me." Eli leans in, his cheek brushing as he gives a light air kiss near Jackson. "The art is amazing. You captured them well. I'll... probably buy one, if that's okay." He pulls back and turns his attention to the paintings briefly, letting some of the pink fade from his cheeks. "Go, enjoy the evening some more." Jax lifts his hand to rest on Eli's bicep, squeezing gently through the air kiss. "S'definitely okay. An' you -- too. I mean I still got the same -- number. Email. Alla it." His cheeks darken as they brush back against Eli's, and he pulls back with a small dip of his head. His fingers squeeze once more and then let go. "I -- g'night, Eli. Y'take care." Eli nods once more, his shoulder following in a small bow before he turns to take his leave, spending some more time looking at the paintings before heading off for the night.