ArchivedLogs:Gloomy

Gloomy
wait, no, the opposite of that.
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Hive, Jackson, Lucien, Matt, Micah, Peter, Sebastian
In Absentia	2013-06-18 GameNight
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Dusk is fretting. Not so much in the /Jax/ sort of way of fretting, he has pretty much zero shits to give about hospitality (there's some soda! there's some beer! There's some chips! Jax -- /might/ bring food, right? That's good ENOUGH.) or even cleanliness although he /has/ been tidying in a haphazard kind of way. It's sort of aimless undirected fretting that manifests in a near-constant quivering of his wings with jittery energy, in a restless /pacing/ throughout the apartment. In a constant re-checking of their large games cabinet though gods know why, he /knows/ all its contents. In a constant return to his room (which in his mind still continues to register as 'our room') to do nothing at all except look around it, disgruntled, and then leave again. "We should play Gloom," he eventually announces to nobody in particular, really. "It's thematic." Micah has made good on his promise and showed up /early/ for the most serious of the cleaning that needed to be done. Which he has performed with constant chatter, because that is how he does things! He is wearing his faded, lightly bleach-stained black 'Stand back, I'm going to try Science!' xkcd shirt over neatly patched jeans. He is finishing up drying dishes when Dusk pops out of his room /again/. Like an adorable winged /gopher/. "Think it only takes four players, though? Unless y'all have expansions." Hive just snorts in answer to this. He's being entirely unhelpful with the preparation efforts, except insofar as he has /procured/ soda and chips and beer. And is now just seated on an upturned crate with his laptop, browsing news. Afternoon press-conference coverage. "Got all the expansions. Can go up to -- seven." He's actually still dressed from /work/ today because he still does that. Nominally. Heavy workboots and sturdy jeans. And a plain green t-shirt. His complexion is growing even more tan. "Jax makes all his stories /cheerful/," he grouses. "I don't know how that motherfucker manages to make getting killed by headhunters cheerful." That motherfucker is coming in right now! He looks -- kiiind of tired admittedly, but there's a smile on his face. /He's/ actually dressed /nicely/ -- for him -- in a dark suit that has kind of an odd purply /sheen/ to it. He also has come with food! A lot of pasta full of fresh pesto and mushrooms and capers, and a tray of coconut-lime cupcakes. "You just gotta know who the protagonists are," Jax says (cheerfully!) as he moves to set FOODS down on the counter. Peter's arrival is quick, abrupt, and probably trailing shortly behind Jackson's. Not by very far! There is /also/ probably a Sebastian somewhere in there with him. He is clad in -- a blue collar shirt, buttoned up; black dress slacks -- a clip-on tie (slightly rustled and crooked, at risk of falling off!) and his two-toed socks. Also, he is -- currently! Minus one thwippy wrist thing. If this bugs him, he doesn't /look/ like it, though. No sooner is he stepping in then is he exclaiming, aloud: "Guys guys /guys/ guys guys /guys/ you are not. Going to -- ohmy/God/." There /is/ a Bastian! In Shane-clothes again, vest and dress shirt and slacks and he is /just/ as full of SQUEE. "/Guys/guysguys /guys/ ohmygod," he is parroting Peter. Also beelining over to Dusk for a HUG, one with a lot of /bounce/ to it. Lucien knocks! Before entering. Knock knock -- but it's only out of /politeness/ because he's just seen Peter and Bastian go in so he tries the door handle next, subsequently pushing the door open with his back so that he can bring Matt's wheelchair inside. "Hopefully not us," Matt says with a quick smile -- it's tired too but it's bright as ever, even if his face is a little thinner, a little paler; he is tucked into his chair beneath a pair of blankets. "The protagonists always have /so/ much chaos -- oh, goodness," he's looking at Peter a little bit wider-eyed, a little bit puzzled. "That was a /lot/ of guys." "The protagonists often get the happy endings, though," Lucien murmurs, navigating Matt's chair around a crate and tucking it in against a table. "I am leaving my brother," he tells Hive, "in your capable hands. Please return him in one piece." In other circumstances he might stay! But there's a tense /rippling/, uncomfortable and none too happy, against the normally polished surface of his mind; somewhere underlying it a quiet note of apology: Sorry, Hive, Lucien does /not/ want to be around telepaths at the moment. He's taking off again. Dusk watches Lucien go with a faint frown, but one wing is opening to welcome this hug. << Woah. /Happy/. >> It's been such a rare thing around here of late; it puts an almost-smile even on his face. "Did you guys save the world?" "Besides! Cheerful is practically a /combat manoeuvre/ in that game." Micah is sort of /gleeful/ about this. Seeing as he is already conveniently in the kitchen, he assists in unburdening Jax of his many-foods. All the better to gain access to /hugs/ once his hands are free! Wow...between Peter and 'Bastian. "Are you guys gonna explode from excitement? 'Cause you might wanna do that outside," he jokes, though one arched brow betrays his curiosity. Lucien at least gets a /wave/ before he manages to sneak off! "Pffft no, /better/," Peter responds, pretty much instantly, to Dusk. Crawling forward for. MAYBE a Dusk hug too. A little more hesitant, but once he's got an opening, DART in there. Because, BATMAN. "Tony frigging Stark offered us /jobs/." At the sight of Lucien entering with Matt, Peter tenses up -- just for a second, there's a slight instinctive clench -- but it relaxes a moment later, because. He is so excited! He's also peeking at Matt with a brief flutter of worry, but -- it's followed by a big, happy grin. "Yes it was all the guys -- MICAH Tony Stark offered us JOBS," Peter announces, again. JUST IN CASE. Micah did not hear him the first time. "Hi Matt! Hi Luci! -- Bye, Luci you should have a cupcake though." Jackson's chipper-bright doesn't extend quite as /deep/ as the children's, but it isn't entirely forced, either. "The /world/? We were just aiming for New York." After foods are unburdened he is so into this HUG thing; he even tosses in a peck on the cheek. "They're gonna explode from excitement," he /affirms/ to Micah, though he leaves it up to the kids to explain /why/, grinning kind of ear to ear with Peter's enthusiasm. "Them and Tony're bros now," he whispers to Micah. Hive glances to Peter with -- a faint /frown/ despite this enthusiasm, when he clenches. But it doesn't last long before: "Holy fucking shit, what?" He leans over to offer Matt a FIST to bump. Like bros. "Yo." "/Jobs/. /TonyStark/." Sebastian says this while SQUEEZING Dusk tightly, one cheek rubbing up against fuzzywing. "He /also/ said we were /Batman/ and /Lucius Fox/ at /once/." Matt watches his brother go, and there's something tense and worried in his mind there, too. But he shoves it back down in favour of /excitement/, his smile returning brighter than before. "-- Holy crap, are you serious? Like, /the/ Tony Stark? For real?" /He/ squirms in his chair, the enthusiasm infectious. "Hey, we got /delivery/ Matt! Excellent," Micah adds with a grin as he finally releases Jaxhugs. "Shane /might/ be under the impression that TonyStark," Micah also offers that as one name, like DanielJackson, "and 'Bastian are datin'. It's hard to /tell/ with Shane, though." He just shakes his head at that. Because it /is/ hard to tell. "Jobs are good, Peter, I heard that part. What sort of jobs?" "The kind that pays, I hope." Dusk squeezes Bastian back, but then unfolds his wing to wrap it around Peter as /well/. Doublehug. It's more than big enough to curl around both boys at once, even if the /rest/ of Dusk is just a kind of skinnybony beanpole to jostle up against. He does sniff with exaggerated dismissal, though. "I thought we already /established/ who was Batman around here. But. You guys can be Lucius Fox for sure. -- /Are/ you dating TonyStark, dude?" "YES," Peter responds, spinning on Matt as Dusk's wingfold engulfs him. "JOBS." At Dusk's monopoly on Batman, Peter's eyebrows crumple. "...okay I'm, uh, /kinda/ Batman. I mean, I'm -- Nightwing? Wait I guess. You're Nightwing /too/ uh. Oh," Peter adds, head slinging toward Micah, a faint trace of violet to his face -- "Internships, I mean. Like, not -- internships at /Stark Enterprise/. Sebastian showed him Jerusalem and I showed him the thwippy things he thought they were, /totally/ awesome--" Peter's eyes drift down to his wrist. And his missing webshooter. Eyes suddenly widening, as if in realization. "...oh man he's still got. My thwippy thing." "/No/," Jackson answers his /for/ Sebastian, wrinkling his nose at Dusk. He goes to the cabinet, rifling through it to find Gloom and all its expansion boxes. "Anyway Dusk isn't Batman he totally already /knows/ he's Darkwing." << Duck, >> finishes mentally. "Maybe when he gives it back to you it'll be. Upgraded. With crazy-awesome Stark technology. You'll have thwippythings that can turn you invisible and let you fly." Hive suggests this without looking up from his laptop. He stops on a picture of the conference! "Dude he was wearing your thing /on TV/." "No! I mean I went to dinner with him," Sebastian's blush is hidden behind Dusk's fuzzy wing, thankfully! "but that was to get money for the clinic. Um. Do you think he /could/ make you a cloaking -- thwipthing?" Tony Stark, /Star Trek/, there might not be much distinction there in Bastian's mind. "He doesn't need Stark technology for to turn invisible and fly," Matt answers lightly, "just Dusk and Jax. That's -- /way/ awesome though. For the record, if Tony Stark asked /me/ on a date I'd probably just die of happy right then and there." He flashes Micah a quick smile. "DeliveryMatt," he agrees, "but you didn't even tip. Should save a cupcake for Luci." "...are you. Are you Dar--" Peter's eyes /snap/ back up to Dusk. The mention of his missing thwippy things briefly forgotten in leiu of: "...can you say. 'I am the terror that flaps in the night'?" Peter asks. With /big/, wide puppy-Peter eyes. Followed by: "Or... 'Let's Get Dangerous'?" "That sounds excitin'," Micah replies to Peter's announcement. "You...man, you shed those things like a /cat/ sheds /hair/. Who /doesn't/ have one now? That might be the shorter list." He pauses a beat while something sinks in, then has a brief flash of 'what have I /wrought/?' in his expression. "Wait a minute, he's not gonna...like...mass-manufacture those things, is he?" Clearly, this should not be thought on further, because that way lies /madness/. "I don't even wanna think about what you're s'posed to tip Lucien. But! You get all of his hugs. Since he doesn't usually want them." He proceeds to make good on that offer. Matthugs! Hive smirks. He finally closes his computer and just /watches/ Dusk, expectantly. Jackson beams as he sets the game out on the table. "He should pay you royalties if he do mass-produce 'em," he says. Meanwhile, Dusk grows a purple /mask/ arund his eyes. And a giant broad-rimmed black-banded grey hat. Dusk looks so longsuffering. He exhales a heavy breath, wrinkling up his nose and squeezing shut his eyes. His wing, though, unfolds from the boys, stretching out wide; it reaches across a good chunk of the living room, extending near to the windows, "I," he proclaims, rather theatrically, "am the terror that flaps in the night." His wing curls back inward, this time lifting to cloak the bottom half of his face. "I am --" There's only a faint hesitation here before he continues, "-- the current of vengeance gurgling through your sewer." His wing mantles at his back, dropping capelike behind him. "C'mon. Let's play." Matt lifts one thin arm to squeeze Micah tight; it lasts probably a good deal longer than it really /needs/ to, forehead briefly pressing to Micah's shoulder. "I'll take /all/ the hugs," he agrees quietly. His eyes flick to Dusk, expression lighting further at his illused accessories. He bounces slightly in his seat. "Oh my god. You guys would make the kids at the hospital /flip/." "..." Peter just. /Staaaaaares/ at Dusk. Followed by, a very quiet: "Ohmy/God/that's/awesome/." Staring, maybe, at the combination of mask and hat, too. At the mention of someone /mass-producing/ those thwippy things, Peter stiffens, and laughs. At the mention of playing, though -- Peter's eyes are glued to the game table. Micah squeezes Matt's shoulder gently, adding quietly, "I gotta talk t'you about somethin' later, okay?" Then he is bouncing back into the main conversation, without missing a beat. "Ugh, no, Dusk is /not/ a duck. He's too not-horrible. For waterfowl." He makes a scrunchy-face at this. "I forget. Are there duck mishaps in Gloom? It would be appropriate. No, no.../geese/. They're the Gloom-iest." Hive snickers at DuskDuck, but there's a thoughtful look in his eyes as he looks over his roommate. He doesn't say anything. He sets all the families in the center of the table for people to pick as they will and starts to shuffle the deck. "Think there's ducks. If I find any, I know where they're going." He lapses into quiet as he deals. But it's a silence that is bound not to last all that /long/.