ArchivedLogs:Feeding Sharks
| Feeding Sharks | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 12 August 2014 Wrapping up some issues. |
| 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. Early Tuesday morning finds Lighthaus already bright and awake and filled with the smells of food. Grits, heavily garlicky, blackened scrambled tofu with spinach, peach muffins, fresh-squeezed orange-mango juice. Jax is barefoot in the kitchen, in slim-fitted knee-length black cutoffs and a green t-shirt with a small child hugging a calf printed into one lower corner. He's stirring at the grits, nearly done and the last of the food to need finishing. There is music playing from his laptop nearby on the counter -- currently /Fiddler on the Roof/'s "To Life" tucked in the middle of a very large playlist entirely of songs from musicals. Intermittently he nudges with a foot at Obie, very recently in from outside and now frisking about his ankles in perpetual hope that food will get dropped. The entryway is a lively-noisy place suddenly, full of locks tumbling, doors opening and closing, keys jingling, bags and shoes being thudded to appropriate locations. There is also a Micah, returning from dropping Spence off at camp. His hair is actually combed to relative neatness at this hour, dress ready for work, consisting of a TARDIS blue polo shirt, khakis, and socks dotted with cartoon chili peppers. Once he has himself situated, he pads into the kitchen, wrapping one arm around Jax and kissing his cheek in such a way as to avoid interrupting the cooking. "Grits an' /Fiddler/ in the kitchen. This is not helpin' the accusations that I married m'mother, y'know." The gentle tease comes with a smirk and a second kiss. Maybe Micah's other hand is spared for sritching at Obie's head when it comes within reach, just a little. "Thanks for puttin' this t'gether, hon." Jax leans back into the hold, eye fluttering closed as he nestles into the touch. His head tips back to catch the second kiss against his lips. "Like I need an excuse t'feed you. /Or/ eat grits." He nuzzles in against Micah's neck before straightening slightly to stir the grits more. "Cookin's always better with music anyway. An' lately I could always use a little --" He shakes his head, humming a few notes before lapsing back into singing. "-- God would like us to be joyful, even when our hearts lie panting on the floor." Knock knock knock! Lucien's quick-quiet raps on the door are accompanied by clear enough identification as he picks up the song where Jax leaves off. "... how much more can we be joyful when there's really something to be joyful for." His clear baritone is crisp through the open windows. Outside he is in work clothes as well; jeans and a white button-down shirt shot through with pearlier white stripes. "Don't need an excuse but I like thankin' you anyway." Okay, maybe /one/ more kiss before letting Jax tend to his pot again. "Every mornin' should come with singin," Micah observes...just in time for Lucien to come singing to their door. He gives Jax a playful parting swat on the behind as he moves off to open the door. "There's a somethin' t'be joyful for." Meaning Lucien standing in the doorway, clearly. He waves the other man inside before raising an arm in an offer of Hug. "Mornin', sugar. How're y'doin'?" A small flutter of glow blossoms around Jax at that swat, his pierced lips curling into a warm smile that only warms /further/ at the sound of Lucien's rich voice putting his own mediocre singing to shame. His singing continues -- "To life, to life, l'chaim!" -- making up with /cheer/ what he lacks in talent. "Hi, honey-honey. I made you a food." Lucien joins in with the song still, until the hug. His arm slips around Micah for a very brief squeeze -- there's a hard ridged outline beneath his shirt that suggests some sort of straps criss-crossing his chest. Perhaps he is only /just/ off work. "Mmm. I can smell that. It smells mouth-watering, as ever." When he releases Micah he slips his shoes off, padding further into the house in socked feet. "I could /use/ something delicious in my mouth. I am one week off cigarettes. I beg your forgiveness in advance if I am snippy..." Though this trails off into a thin smile and an addendum, "-- /er/ than usual." Micah's hug is likely a touch more enthusiastic than Lucien's, but that's just how they come. He bounces a step back from the other man, allowing him to get settled before they move to join Jax. "Jax's cookin's /always/ a good thing." Micah smirks at Lucien's comment, a hint of pink rising in his cheeks, the only testament to him /not/ being thirteen is the fact that the smirk doesn't segue into giggling. "Oh goodness. You doin' any of those e-cigarettes or anythin'? I know a number of folks as swear by those, weren't able t'quit in a dozen tries b'fore." His hand rests lightly on Jax's shoulder like a little bird. "We settin' up in the sunroom or the dinin' room, hon?" "If you want delicious I can do for you." Jax plucks a bit of spinach out of his pan, wrapping it around a spice-crusted bit of blackened tofu and blowing on the whole thing before he offers it to Lucien between two fingers. "Oh gosh, you quittin' cold-turkey, that's rough. I swear /Hive's/ tried quittin' like a dozen times, it don't never take." His cheek tips down to press against Micah's hand. "Sunroom, please. -- I should," he admits, "prob'ly not be goin' out of my /way/ t'soak up more sun but. But it's /pretty/ in there." Even if he still isn't entirely managing things like /sleeping/ properly. Lucien leans in to accept the morsel, humming in quiet appreciation. "You never disappoint. -- Do you need help setting up, Micah?" His lips press together slightly, and he gives Jax a nod. "Quitting whole cloth, yes. I blame you." There is admittedly no censure in his voice at this odd accusation. "Shouldn't be going out of -- ah. Summer." Micah's hand turns to pet against Jax's cheek. "Of course, sugar." He moves to gather plates and utensils, glasses and teacups, and cloth napkins all to the counter. "If y'wanna help tote dishes over, that'd be lovely." A single brow arches at the accusation. "Not that it's a bad thing t'be blamed for as such things go, but what's he done this time?" He takes the plates, utensils, and napkins into a stack in his arms to distribute to the table in the sunroom. "Me?" Jax looks startled as he scoops his spoon into the grits, testing its consistency; he switches the flames off beneath it a moment later. "I don't recall as I ever said nothin' to nobody 'bout their smokin' habits -- well not no time recently anyhow. When I was fourteen or so I was fair /insufferable/ 'bout -- well okay, 'bout everythin'. But also cigarettes." He starts to scoop the food out into proper serving dishes for the others to bring to the table. "Quite a few fourteen year olds are insufferable." Lucien's lips twitch as he takes an armload of glasses and one of the teacups over to the table as well. "You put me back in Equity. There is to be an, ah. Audition. In the fall. Smoking does nothing /kind/ to keeping my voice in proper form." It takes a moment for Micah to lay out place settings before returning for the other teacups and the dish of tofu. "Passionate I can see, but not /quite/ the insufferable," he says with an appraising look over his husband. He perks again at Lucien's announcement. "Ohgosh! That's wonderful news! Congratulations!" Lucien is spared another hug only by virtue of Micah's laden arms. "Your voice still kinda /melts/ me," Jax admits with a blush, tucking the muffins into a neat pattern on a plate and bringing those and the grits to the table. "-- but I guess my standards ain't, uh. Quite. What y'need to be considerin'. -- an' /gosh/ no I was /so/ insufferable. 'bout meat-eatin' an' the environment an' queer rights an' anarchism an' I wouldn't never stop preachin'. Took some work t'beat the obnoxious outta me." Though his smile at that last sentence is a little crooked, given that it was Prometheus interrupting his high-school years that /did/ push him from Lots Of Talking into actual /action/ as an activist. "Save your congratulations for if I get the part. It has been quite some /years/ since my last role on Broadway. I think I am aiming a little /high/ with the role but -- getting in shape to audition again will be worthwhile, at least." Lucien lifts a shoulder in a shrug, slipping back to retrieve the juice and cart it to the table. One eyebrow crooks up at Jax's choice of words. "I suppose there is sometimes a very fine /line/ between passionate and pushy." "There are definitely worse kinds of obnoxious, too." It's a grinning kind of morning, at least where Micah's concerned, lips still pulled up at the corners. "I'll let the congratulations stand where they are, thanks much. Just settin' yourself off on that course t'do somethin' that'll make you happy is worthy of it." He places the cups and food on the table, one last lap taken to the kitchen to retrieve the teapot. "I think that's everythin'." "It /is/ pretty awesome news, honey-honey." Even with everything on the table in its place, Jax kind of /flits/ restless-energetic around the table like he is /looking/ for something new to do. "... s'role wouldn't happen t'be Pippin would it? Cuz c'mon, I got a /pretty/ good feelin' 'bout that'n." He says this with a bright grin, though it soon fades into a small frown of contemplation. Lucien's eyes drop to the table. He rests his hand on the back of a chair, rocking it back but not yet sitting. "It is." His brows knit. "We shall see. That future," he reminds in a small murmur, "is already changing." Micah slides a chair out, a hand over Jax's shoulder blade pressing him lightly in its direction to encourage him to sit. "They say it helps t'envision obtainin' your goals. So /that/ part should be easy enough, at least. S'always a little chance t'life. S'good that you're tryin' is all." Once Jax is settled he takes his own seat, looking between the other two and their suddenly more sombre expressions. Oh right seat! Jax drops into his chair at the silent encouragement. He wriggles back halfway up a second later, though, stopping short of actually /standing/ entirely but resting with one foot on the ground and one knee on his chair. He takes Lucien's plate to start filling it first -- "Little of everything?" His expression has very abruptly returned to cheer, maybe a little doggedly so. "S'changin' but. But that don't mean that -- I mean not /alla/ it's changin', you could still. There could still be plenty'a /good/ in it." "There could be." Lucien is reserved in this, sliding his chair properly out to sit after Jax does. "A /lot/ of everything," he corrects with small tug of smile, "I have had a long night." His brows quirk up slightly, green eyes shifting towards Micah. "-- Maybe set to get longer? I do not imagine you invited me to discuss my attempts to break back into the theatre world." Micah's smile remains intact through Jax's forced cheer, and more with Lucien's appetite. It does dull with Lucien's reminder of Business at Hand. "Would that I got t'invite folks 'round more just for social visits," he sighs, confirming ulterior motives even as his cheeks colour that this is so often the case as to be /predictable/ now. "It's...Neve. She needs help undoin' the mess that was made of her head. The conditionin' parts an' all, at least." The fingertips of his right index and middle fingers tap against his temple indicatively. "Some of what might well be attributed t'the conditionin's been causin' friction with folks here. An' after her announcement in the news, certainly the police are lookin' for her. Whatever might be done...sooner's better on all counts." Jax loads Lucien's plate up generously, tucking a muffin onto its edge before he picks up Micah's to serve him as well. "S'kinda been a touch uncomfortable," he admits to Lucien with a small sigh. "I mean, we knowed it was gonna be uncomfortable jus' cuz of the /history/ there but -- she's been fair /insultin'/ to --" His head shakes quickly as he sets Micah's plate down. "Tellin' Dusk how we're s'bad as Prometheus here -- tellin' /Dusk/ that. Anyway it. It might be a help if y'could -- if there was even a chance at figurin' out what's /her/ an' what's them." "I have not had an excess of time in my life for purely social visits, lately, either," Lucien admits with a dismissive shake of his head. He quiets with these further explanations, reaching for the juice to pour three glasses full. "Ah." And then more quiet, as he ignores both food and juice and instead curls his fingers around his empty teacup. "Perhaps I should have made it clear to her that this arrangement was conditional on not abusing her hosts. I -- rather assumed that was /clear/. My apologies," he murmurs, eyes dropping to his cup, "I can find other lodging for her, if this situation is untenable." “But it /is/ hard t'tell how much of it's her an' how much is the conditionin' tellin' her that mutants are monsters an' diseases an' subhuman an' dangerous, an' that it's best t'/fix/ 'em. They put that in there, t'keep her away from herself an' on their path. It don't...lend itself well t'interactin' smoothly with all the X-gene bearin' folks here.” Micah's head shakes at that. “Where would we find other lodgin' for her that /wouldn't/ be a death sentence? Both sides want her gone, crazies an' just.../folks/ this time. It'd be best...if she could get patched up quickly. An' decide how she wants t'turn herself over t'the legal system, 'cause it's only a matter of time.” He reaches for the teapot at the signal of Lucien's hold on his cup, pouring the rather fragrant Yunnan gold. “Figured caffeine might go over well today.” "No, we -- we ain't looking to --" Jax trails off, though, slowly settling back down onto the edge of his seat. His own plate is still empty and for a few seconds he just looks at it in confusion, only remembering at a delay to actually put food on it. "Jus'. Was hopin' you could help maybe." "Somewhere very far away." Lucien's voice is rather dry, here. He dips his head in thanks to Micah for filling the cup, lifting it to just inhale the steam at first. His eyes close, jaw tight and fingers tensing around the cup. At length he shifts in his seat, reaching to pull his phone from his pocket and swipe it unlocked. He scrolls across the screen briefly. "I imagine it will be rather an all day kind of job. Thursday is the only time I have free this week," he answers finally, just a little clipped. "Past that she will have to wait till September." Micah moves on to pour tea for Jax and for himself, all of the cups on the table soon curling pleasant wisps of steam from their dark, still surfaces. "I don't rightly know, but I'd guess it's a complicated thing, yes. Thursday, please. Sooner is better. I'll let her know. Y'can just give me the details an' I'll pass 'em on for you. Thank you, for helpin'." He squirms in his seat, eyes studying the tea steam for some time before he brings up the next issue. "B ain't willin' t'live here while she's...like that. I'm not even sure ze'll come back once she's set straight again. But certainly not until... Would y'mind terribly...um. It's a lot t'ask but pretty much everybody we know lives /here/. Would y'mind if ze were t'stay with you, just through Thursday? Ze's been campin' out at a safe house an' it's not a great...environment for hir in hir current mental state, I don't think." His tone is less than pleased with all of this, cheeks heating with steadily deepening red. Jax is quiet, drinking rather thirstily at his juice but just listening to this talk with a growing frown. He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat at the talk of B, safehouses, staying with Lucien, but doesn't actually /add/ anything here. Lucien's brows hike back up. He doesn't look up, instead adding the appointment into his calendar and sending a calendar invite to Micah so that he will have the time. "B had mentioned something about --" He shakes his head, lifting his tea to take a sip. "Does /B/ want to come stay with me?" Micah frowns down into his tea. "I certainly hope ze will? Ze loves Desi an' is over there often enough. Ze spends all day at work an' really just needs a place t'relax for a little bit an' sleep. 'Til ze can feel safe comin' back here. Which I'm hopin' might be after Thursday." He grips the cup a little tighter. "I thought I'd ask t'see if it were an' option 'fore I brought it up. I also...wanted t'know what timeline I could tell hir for Neve gettin' worked on for when I talk t'hir. 'Cause ze's gonna need t'hear somethin' as sounds at least like progressin' t'ward solutions." And, there it is, the teeth pressing hard into his lower lip. "I just wish ze'd let us /know/ how ze felt 'fore all this. I wouldn't've said yes t'her movin' in. But at this point..." "She ain't always -- she don't always really talk t'us. About what she's thinkin'," Jax says, quiet, frowning down at his food. "It's -- it's hard, I worry 'bout her so much but it's hard t'know how to. Help when she don't. Say nothin' hardly ever." "Ah." Lucien takes another slow drink of tea. "My apologies. B was rather straightforward in her opinions with me, I assumed with you she also would have --" He shakes his head again. "I assumed wrongly, clearly. It is often easier to confide in strangers than loved ones. That impulse drives a large portion of my business, really."
"I know we kinda. Keep askin' so much of you. I just --" Jax shrugs a shoulder awkwardly. "Life don't seem to settle down. Kinda wish there was somethin' we could do for you in return." "Like help push my life back onto the path I always wanted for it?" Lucien's lips finally curl back into a smile -- albeit a /reserved/ one, for the follow-up: "Like return my brother to me from the dead? For what you have already sacrificed for my family, Jackson, I would feed and house an army of small sharks." “Thank you...so much, honey, I can't even say.” Hazel eyes catch green ones, locking with them. “Seriously, though. If there's anythin' y'need, we're here for you'n yours, too. Y'can call on us just as surely.” The corner of Micah's lips twitches, just faintly. “Though I'm picturin' an army of small sharks in your kitchen now.” Jax's gaze lowers at the mention of returning Matt from the dead, locking onto his plate. A small curl of shadow wraps itself around him, and he pushes a hard swallow down his throat. "Thank you," is all he manages aloud, very soft. Slowly, though, his posture shifts more relaxed again, shadow dissipating, smile hesitantly returning. The huge windows begin to fill up with deep-dark /water/ instead of sunlight and a view of the Commons, the ocean pressing in at the sunroom with myriad sharks gliding by just outside it. "I do have rather a fondness for --" Lucien stops, his breath actually /catching/ as the sunroom windows suddenly turn into their own personal aquarium. His eyes widen, and he lowers his tea back down, just watching, for a time, the sharks swimming by outside. "... marine life. Ah. My aquariums cannot hold a candle to --" His fingers flutter towards the windows. “Ohgosh. That just never gets old.” Micah pauses in what had begun of his breakfast, as well, just to observe the illusion. “S'generally hard for the real thing t'hold up t'illusions, 'least...in appearances.” He reaches out to brush a hand over Lucien's sleeved arm, still making a habit of not contacting skin without invitation. “I'll let B know what's goin' on soon as I can get hir t'talk t'me. Then I'll tell y'what ze says. Just. Thank you, again.” Jax just smiles, quietly pleased with the appreciation. Other creatures begin to filter in among the sharks, brilliantly-coloured fish, an octopus shifting in hues, translucent jellyfish bobbing above, a huge ray flapping its fins slowly. With this constantly changing background providing a rather unique view for their breakfast, he finally picks up his fork and starts to eat. | |
