ArchivedLogs:Guarding Secrets

Guarding Secrets
Dramatis Personae Gabriel, Hive, Jackson
In Absentia	2013-08-05 '
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. The concrete wall that rings the roof has been decorated, painted in vivid bright shades by some artistic hand to add colourful cheer to the rooftop. The mural shifts in terrain One wall sports a beach, flecked with grass and seashells and driftwood and shore birds. Beach transitions into meadow, colourful with wildflowers and butterflies and dragonflies; meadow shifts into snow-capped mountains, subsides into piedmont and sprouts into a verdant forest on the fourth, alive with animals. The sun hasn't yet set, though it's starting to sink; even so, Wednesday evening still finds the rooftop bathed in light. Jackson is up here, perched on top of the wall that rings the rooftop, one leg crooked up towards his chest and the other dangling down the inside of the wall, partially obscuring one of the herons painted on the beach mural. He's dressed about as colourfully as the mural itself; sunny yellow capri pants embroidered up their legs with bright-coloured dragonflies, a spaghetti-strapped blue tank top layered over a longer green tank. He has his chin resting on his knee, face tipped down towards the screen of his phone; in his other hand he holds a purple metal thermos. Large mirror-lensed sunglasses obscure a good deal of emotion from his expression, though his thoughts today are /tired/, their typical too-vivid colours starting to run together; thankfully it doesn't take a good /deal/ of brain for his current task, rescheduling work appointments after his week-and-a-half long absence from the studio. There's a cupcake still in its wrapper, resting on the wall beneath the arch provided by his bent knee. Thunk! Hive /shoves/ the roof door open, the heel of his hand slamming unnecessarily hard up against the handle. He is a drab-bland counterpart to Jax. Heavy work boots. Dusty-dirty jeans. A black t-shirt that reads 'resistance is futile (if <1 ohm)'. His hands shove into his pocket once he slouches his way through the door, and he beelines straight for Jax, /swiping/ that thermos to take a drink. And immediately wince and glare at the thermos accusingly. "Jesus fucking Christ, that's hot." "Coulda told you that if you'd asked first." Jackson's lips twitch slightly, though the smile is brief. "That thing is like magic for keeping tea hot /forever/. It's a trap." His thumb (nails painted bright chrome-blue, as are the nails on his bare toes) still swipes at his phone, sending another email, adding another appointment to his calendar. "Had dinner yet? I was going to make curry. Sweet potato. Maybe seitan. After I grab Spence from camp." "Tastes better stolen," Hive grouses. He takes another sip, more /carefully/ this time, and returns the thermos to Jax. He moves aside to slouch down against the wall, downwind from Jax as he pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. "Ngh," comes his answer to the question of dinner. "Flicker'll probably want in. Dusk." He taps out a cigarette, slipping it between his lips and taking a deep drag once he's lit it. His brow creases, abruptly deep. "I can grab Spence." This is quick and only belatedly amended by a tacked on, "--if you're gonna cook." Thunk, again. This time, someone else is opening the door to the roof. Gabriel is dressed in a blank gray t-shirt, a pair of tan cargo jeans, and blue converse. Holding a fast food take-out bag, he slowly walks through, heading for the table. He however stops when he notices Jackson and Hive. He approaches, waving. "Hey, I don't think I've seen you guys around here. I'm Gabriel. I just moved into the third floor! Nice to meet you.". He smiles, cheerfully, as he sets his bag onto a plastic table. He then looks closer at Jackson. "Wait, have I seen you before?" "S'fine, honey-honey, I just --" Jackson looks up, brows creasing at Hive with an abrupt niggling suspicion. Kind of /amused/ suspicion. << Are you /fretting/? >> "-- I can get him on my own, it's fine, really." His grip tightens on his phone at the sound of the newcomer, his head lifting to look towards the door. "Hey. I'm on three, too. -- Wait, /Gabriel/?" Jackson's eyebrows raise, recognition blossoming in his mind. "Yeah, no, totally, s'Jax." << No. >> Hive grumps back, a distinct /fretting/ undertone in his whipcrack-hard mindvoice. << Look, there's just -- fucking -- /people/ trying to goddamn -- >> This thought gets cut off at the newcomer. Hive answers less cheerfully than Jax, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow as he sizes Gabriel up -- both physically and mentally, psionic senses assessing the other man in a habitual ingrained /paranoia/ of strangers. "You know this guy?" He flicks a glance between Jax and Gabriel. Gabriel freezes for a second as Jackson says his name, before smiling. "You're...Jackson? Right? Didn't you go to the Institute a few years back?". He brushes his hair back, as he sits down. "What a small world, isn't it?". He then turns to Hive. "We used to go to school together, I guess. Do you live on three as well?". He smiles again, as he opens his bag, pulling out a small hamburger. "Because, I don't /think/ you went to our school. If you did, apologies in advance, I guess.". "Yeah," Jackson agrees, "we went to high school together. Jax, yeah." His smile brightens, warmly. "You just moved in? Cool! Which apartment, I'll bring you cupcakes." He swings his leg down to join the other, careful not to knock his cupcake off the wall. << There's people who try a lot of things. But what are we going to do, just never leave the house? >> "I'm 303, myself. What've you been up to, I haven't seen you since -- you left!" "Oh." There's a /visible/ relaxation to Hive when the others mention attending the same high school, though mentally he is still listening to surface thoughts just as keenly, long habit hard to break. "Nah. I'm on four. Didn't go to your school." He takes a long drag of cigarette. "I'm Hive," he introduces himself. "Welcome to -- uh, crazytown." Slowly grabbing a fry out of the bag and putting it in his mouth, looking back to Jackson. "I'm on..302! I think we're next door neighbors, it'd seem.". << Fuck, what do I tell him without lying..? Well, I guess I could just leave some things out. That's not lying, I guess. >>. He eats another fry, smiling. "Well, after I left, I headed back to my parent's restaurant to help them out. I'm uh...unemployed..". He hesistates as he says this, before laughing. "Yeah. I'm probably going to see about enrolling my sister into the Institute. My mom's already having enough trouble homeschooling her, and running the restaurant at the same time, so.". He laughs a bit, taking a small bite of burger. He waits to swallow before speaking. "What about you? What have you been doing since then? I see you have more piercings." He laughs a bit. << Okay, I think I did good. >> "Odds on one side, even on the other -- 302's across the hall -- but yeah," Jackson agrees brightly. "Woah, cool. Makes for /super/ easy cupcake delivery. -- How old's your sister, I don't remember." He sounds apologetic about this. "Me? Oh -- gosh." His cheeks flush with a tint of pink. "School, mostly. An' a lot of work. I gotta have a lot of piercings." He gestures towards his very /shiny/ metal-studded face. "Work at a tattoo an' piercing studio, s'like -- walking advertisement. Unemployed?" This comes with both a sympathetic wince and a sudden baffled curiosity as to Gabriel can /afford/ living in this building unemployed. << -- Hard enough for me and I got /three/ jobs. >> "He's running out of facial real estate." Hive draws a slow drag of cigarette, holding it for a long moment before exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose. "Shitty. Restaurant thing not working out?" Gabriel sighs, laughing at Hive. "Oh, no, it was working, just, I don't want to be taking money out of my parent's pockets. I'm looking for a job, I guess. Maybe some roommates.". << Can't tell them I rob houses for a living.. >>. He looks towards Jackson. "She just turned 17, but she's a few years back in school, due to her disability. They had to keep her out for a year or so while we were adjusting her.". He laughs a bit, as he thinks back. "Wait, were you the one leaving all the cupcakes in the rec room? Those were good cupcakes.". He takes another handful of fries, slowly eating them. "But, yeah. I have like, a month or two of rent paid forward. After that, things will be difficult.". "What kinda job?" Jackson purses his lips thoughtfully, but then grins. "Oh -- oh gosh, yeah, that was me! -- Still /is/ me, a lotta the time, except now I leave 'em in the teacher's lounge, too. Been teaching art there." His teeth scrape against his lower lip. "I don't know, depending on what /kinda/ work you're OK taking, we might could find you /some/ sorta employment t'tide you over while y'look for something permanent. S'rough, not having a job 'round here especially." Hive chuffs out a snort, his eyes half lidding as he turns away to look back out over the rooftop, off towards the park across the street. << You know this guy? He decent? >> He's pulling again at his cigarette, long and slow. "City's fucking expensive. S'difficult for most everyone." One side of his mouth pulls upwards in a lopsided smile. "This motherfucker," his thumb jerks towards Jax, "will start leaving cupcakes for you again, if you let him. Probably even if you don't. I think he keeps half the /building/ well-stocked in sugar." Gabriel nods. "That'd be great, thanks!". He takes another bite of burger, as he looks towards Hive, laughing. "He almost got the entire school bouncing off the walls with his cupcakes. Is Chess Club still around?". He smiles a bit. "Yeah, the economy has the city in a blight. Hopefully we get a good mayor in the election.". He looks at his phone for a second, putting it away dejectedly after looking at it.. << Hope Jack didn't get himself killed. Where the fuck could he be? He fucked the entire job up yesterday. >>. "I met Doug. Actually, the first person I met, really. May or may not have shown him what I can do, yes, I still show off.". He smiles, lauhing. "Still brings back memories, I guess.". Jackson just offers the mental equivalent of a shrug to Hive's question; his answer is structured, as his mind so often is, more in images than words. Flicker-memories of high school though what he summons up for Gabriel is only scattered. A class here, a party there, a group of students in the lunch room here. Pleasant enough, not overly helpful with regards to any deep /character/ study. "Hopefully we get a good /everyone/," he answers with a laugh, "this entire country could use a change'a politicians. -- Oh! Y'met Doug? He's nice," though his mental landscape comes here with a shimmer of awkward, "think he's lookin' for roommates, too." His smile comes quicker, now with a crinkle of his nose. "Oh, gosh. Should be careful, honey-honey. S'fun, for sure, but these days showin' off t'the wrong person's like to get a body killed." He tries hard but fails to entirely suppress the fresher memory that surfaces here, a rat-tat-tat of gunfire, the smokey-fiery blast of a grenade. "I think next election cycle there'll be an even worse crop of assholes voted in. Vote to kill us all instead of just shunt us out of sight." Hive is definitely bringing the CHEER in this group. He draws in another drag of his smoke and then announces bluntly: "I can hear you. Just so you know." His forefinger taps at one temple. "Telepath. Sorry." He doesn't sound /overly/ sorry, really, just sort of blandly factual. "I'm in 403. By the way." Gabriel's face instantly pales as Hive explains. "Fuck.". He's hiding his face downwards. "Should of figured there'd be one. I guess I should guard my secrets more carefully, hmm?". He's still pale, seeing as he just revealed his deep secret. He turns towards Jackson. "Yeah, I know. Hey, I think I met one of the students at the arcade the other day? I think his name was..Peter? Dark blue? Covered in chitin? Kid told me the same exact thing, basically.". He crinkles his bag up a bit. "The president is putting the country into a rut, basically. After the big attack at the Statue, they'll probably begin placing mutants in FEMA camps or something. Not that I'm a conspiracy theorist, or anything.". He smiles, but freezes up, concentrating. He shakes his head, stopping, grabbing his temple, having just looked at all possible outcomes for what he is saying. "So, I take it, you heard /everything/ I said, or, well, thought, Mister Telepath?". "Such an optimist." Jackson stretches out a leg, more of a prod than a kick as his bare toes nudge against Hive's leg. He picks up his cupcake, unwrapping it to take a large bite. "Hard to keep many secrets around Hive," he admits with another wince. "He's pretty good about keeping them for you, though." His wince dissolves into a bright smile at the mention of Peter. "Oh! Peter! Oh, gosh, Peter's /such/ a sweetheart. You might see him around now and then, he's real good friends with my kids." Yes, kids. Despite Jackson being younger than Gabriel and decidedly /not/ having any children in high school. "Government already does a lot of terrible with us," he acknowledges with a little bit more of a somber air. "FEMA camps'd be paradise compared to some of what they already do." Hive just shrugs a shoulder. "Long as you don't do shit that puts the people who live here in danger? I don't give two fucks about your secrets." Despite the cursing his tone is bland, gruff in a habitaul sort of way but not remotely angry. "Just figure it's polite to let you know. Since I tend to be able to hear what's in the apartments around mine. Not out to fuck with anyone's life, though. But yeah. I heard." Gabriel shakes his head, smiling. "Please. I'm not going to..". He winces, before saying, or, actually thinking it. << Rob you. >>. He blinks when Jackson mentions kids. "Kids..? Weren't you younger than me?". He then thinks for a minute. "Well, wait, nevermind.". << Wonder if I should tell Jackson. Nah, he'll have to figure it out for himself. >>. He puts his bag in a trash bin. "What's the odds of getting murdered around here?". He smiles, slightly joking, but also with a slight somber tone. "Just asking.". "Not gonna --?" Jackson's brows furrow, puzzled as he looks at Gabriel. He turns his attention to Hive next, but the reflexive curiosity in his mind is quashed almost as soon as it's rising; despite /being/ curious he does not /actually/ want the telepath to divulge Other People's Secrets to him. "Mmm -- kids, yeah. Uh -- adopted. I got three. Two of them you'll -- know for sure the second you see 'em. They're really -- blue." His smile is quick and bright with talk of his children but it fades away at the next question. "Murdered by who?" << Good. Cuz you fuck with any of these people here, and /then/ we'll have problems. >> Hive's mental voice is a distinctly unpleasant experience, a knife-sharp /stab/ of mental sound that drills its way into Gabriel's mind. It's blessedly /quick/, at least, though. He exhales sharply at the last question, and taps ash from his cigarette out over the edge of the roof. "Pretty fucking high, if you're a mutant." Gabriel winces in slight mental pain. << Understood. >>. He looks towards Jackson. "Fuck, I trust you enough. I guess.". He sighs, putting his hand to his face. He concentrates again, before answering. Unfreezing, he answers. "Officially, I /am/ unemployed. Unofficially..I'm a..thief? Slightly hard to explain.". He pants a bit, brushing his hair back. "Okay, that really hurts.". He holds his head in pain from using his ability. "It's not a career choice I /would/ have taken, but, shit's forced my hand, I guess.". He looks at his phone again. "Gah, I told my parents I'd help with my sister. I have to go. Nice seeing you again!.". He turns towards Hive. "And, uh, nice meeting you?". "You're -- oh." This revelation stirs up a storm of -- mostly /puzzlement/ in Jackson's mind though there's a definite undertone of worry, looking over at Gabriel with his brows furrowing. "Things have been pretty rough around this city, lately." His teeth scrape down against his lip, wiggling one lip ring before he takes another small bite of cupcake. "Um -- nice -- yeah. Take -- care, I'll be by soon probably." Most likely with /cupcakes/. He pops open the lid to his thermos, taking a small careful sip. << Thief. What. >> This is not even really directed to Hive so much as the /universe/. << Thief, >> Hive says in agreement. << What. >> He is just as much at a loss. << World /has/ been pretty fucking shitty, I guess. >> He jerks his head upward in a nod as Gabriel turns. "See ya round, I'm sure." Gabriel lifts himself up, heading for the door. He makes a quick wave, as he reachs it. Thunk. And he's gone.