ArchivedLogs:Honest Work

Honest Work
Dramatis Personae Micah, Lucien, Matt	Saturday, 28 March 2015 Part of the Future Past TP.
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Sunroom - Lower East Side
Bright and warm, this room is set up to enjoy a little bit of the outdoors even year-round. Tall glass panes make up most of its wall in between wood supports, providing a wide three-sided view of the garden and yard outside. As well as the inner doors leading back into the kitchens and dining room, an outer door leads out to the outdoor gardens, as well. Inside, the room is airy and green -- a plethora of potted herbs and plants hang from the ceiling, as well as ring the room in a series of narrow wooden raised-beds that provide growing space for a selection of herbs year-round. Outside of the herb beds that ring the room, this place is designed simply to come and relax; quiet and simple, with clean stone floors and neutral-toned wicker furniture adorned with comfortable cushioning. Some of the chairs ring stone-and-glass tables for eating or conversing; a few more solitary seats come in the form of rocking chairs or netted hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling. Saturday morning is a perfect time to be out in the garden room, with the sun streaming in warm and bright through the windows, illuminating the lovely decorative and edible plants and filling the room with the scent of fresh-growing herbs. Micah is dressed Saturday-casual in a Doctor Hooves T-shirt and jeans, hair still a little spiky from drying out of the shower with little attention paid to it. He has been /distracted/ by the plants in the room, having initially come out to fetch a little fresh chives and parsley for cooking. Instead, he's found himself on a watering and pruning mission, with a bucket of trimmed plant scraps waiting to be added to the compost bin slowly filling at his feet. There's a tap-tap-tapping at the glass pane of the door leading out to the gardens beyond. Outside, Matt is casually dressed as well, black jeans, a TARDIS-blue t-shirt featuring a small cartoon figure perched beneath an archway of books reading a book nearly as large as the figure is; the words around it read 'Best Time Machine EVER!' He has a sweatshirt on over it, black with a blue band around its chest, unzipped, and the smile on his face as he taps at the back door is bright. Beyond, Lucien has gotten distracted as well on his way to the Common House, stooping near one of the vegetable beds in the garden /outside/ to reach in and carefully unearth a stray weed. He's dressed slightly less casual than the other two, though only slightly; still jeans. Dark Alexander McQueen boots. A deep green button-down with a grey vest over top, his light suede jacket removed and draped over an arm. Micah first startles slightly at the tap, then smiles brightly as he looks up to see Matt outside. He sets down his garden shears beside the pot of the plant he was working on last, moving to open the door for the brothers. "Matt!" he greets happily, taking a step through the threshold to wrap the other man in a tight hug. "And Lucien, good morning!" The second greeting is called a little louder to catch attention from the garden. "I've got everythin' set up t'go in the kitchen pretty much. Didn't wanna finish with actually /cookin'/ the omelettes 'til folks was here so the eggs wouldn't go cold. What kinda tea and/or juice would y'guys like? Figured we could just sit at the little table out here." In fact, said small table has three places set with place mats, utensils, cloth napkins, and empty tea cups and glasses, just waiting for drinks and plates of food to complete them. Matt returns the hug in a tight squeeze. "Luci'd /kiss/ you if you gave him a good Darj right now. I --" Despite this alacrity with deciding his /brother's/ preferences, Matt hems indecisively about his own. "-- Oh. Oh, um -- do you just have ora -- actually I could really go for some English Breakfast. Wait, no, what's going in the omelettes maybe I should have cranberry --" Lucien pulls himself up at the greeting, flicking a stray bit of dirt from the end of his fingertips and approaching the door with a quiet chuckle. "He'll be at this all day if you let him. Did you know, it's his secondary mutant ability?" "Indecisiveness? You don't need to be a mutant for /that/," Matt answers with a grin. "Always knowing what other people want to eat," Lucien clarifies. "It would be useful if you went into some form of hospitality." "I would make an /excellent/ sommelier. But it doesn't help because I never know what /I/ want -- oh gods," Matt bounces slightly on his toes, peering in past Micah to the table and the sunroom at large. "I never get used to -- /everything/ about this place is so. /Homey/. -- Hey," he nudges his brother in the side with an elbow, "hey can we sell our house and --" "No." Lucien slips in past the others to drape his jacket against the back of one of the chairs. “Well, if it's earning kisses... I have a high-altitude summer Darjeeling that is particularly smooth.” Micah giggles at Matt's indecision. “How about I make a pot of that an' bring out the jug of orange juice an' we can just...supplement if Matt comes up with another plan?” He moves to offer Lucien a hug, as well. “I'll be back in a few. Just gotta put the kettle on an' throw the ingredients together for omelettes t'be finished.” Gathering his collected herbs from where they were resting on the edge of the table in a paper towel, he heads back for the kitchen. "See? I don't need to make decisions, I have you guys around." Matt is wandering off to perambulate the room, fingers trailing lightly against the furniture. "That sounds exactly perfect." Lucien, on the other hand, takes a seat, folding himself down into one of the wicker chairs and slipping his phone out of his pocket. "Though my kisses /do/ usually command a higher price than --" "-- a /good/ Darjeeling first thing in the morning?" Matt tuts quietly, flopping back into a hanging hammock-chair to let it swing crazily beneath him. "/Some/ things are kind of priceless." Some fifteen to twenty minutes later, Micah emerges from the kitchen first to deliver the teapot of Darjeeling and glass pitcher of orange juice, then to return with a fully laden tray of food. A plate finds its way onto each placemat, filled with an omelette (tomato, red pepper, spinach, and mushrooms with finely chopped herbs and a mild chevre), thick-sliced honey wheat toast, and a little bowl of fruit salad. Small containers of butter, apricot preserves, strawberry jam, and fresh whipped cream also gather in the middle of the table with appropriate little serving spreaders or spoons by each. "You startin' t'charge me for kisses, now?" he asks with a playful grin as he takes his own seat. "That'll add up fast." "Only in tea." Which Lucien has poured for the three of them while Micah heads back to get the food. "Honestly, I think I am getting the better half of the deal, here." Matt, meanwhile, has wandered back off out to the garden outside in the interim, but at the sight of movement within he returns to the sunroom, letting in a gust of cool (but springtime-mild) air from outside. "Oh /wow/, Micah, you know you could've, like, poured some Lucky Charms into a bowl and I would have been /just/ as pleased to come out and see you." Lucien's eyebrows hike upward slightly at this. "I am not sure most breakfast cereals actually count as a food. I, at least, am glad our meal is coming without dyed marshmallows. -- This looks wonderful, Micah, thank you." Though he picks up his tea before anything else, taking a long slow sip as his eyes close with obvious relish. He leans in towards Micah's chair, once he's set the teacup back down, hand lifting to cup the side of the older man's jaw as he pulls just a little closer for a kiss, chaste-soft but lingering. "Goodness, Matt. What kinda host would I be, feedin' guests food from a box? Cereal's for work mornin's when you ain't got time for better. There's entirely too many wonderful breakfast foods t'neglect 'em for boxed sugar." Lucien proves a very effective and pleasant distraction from food, Micah leaning in to return the kiss with a pale pink blush and pleased sigh. "Definitely think that's worth a nice cup of tea or two." "Work -- /mornings/?" Matt echoes this phrase with wide-eyes and feigned puzzlement. "What are /those/?" He heads back over to drop into a seat, grinning bright as he reaches for a butter knife to spread butter onto his toast, adding apricot to one slice and strawberry to another. His eyes flick to the other two men, crinkling up warm at their corners with the kiss. Lucien exhales quietly, softly amused as he draws back. He butters his toast, too, leaving it un-jam-laden. "Oh, come now. You were out of bed two days ago by eleven." "How /is/ work going?" Matt bites happily into his toast, pouring himself a glass of orange juice afterwards. "How long do you have to be in business before you're not, like -- in startup territory anymore and you're just. /Established/." "Har-har," Micah fake-laughs in reply to Matt's morning-confusion. His hands busy themselves with pouring a glass of juice to accompany his tea and adding spreads to his toast (rounding out the options by slathering one each in strawberry and apricot /without/ butter). "Work's been goin' amazin'. Think I'm /well/ out of start-up territory by now. Got the typical medical field problem of /more/ needs than I got the time t'meet. Don't help that I'm the only person in the area...well. The only person I /know of/ workin' with people with active X-genes. I've gotten calls from what few /physicians/ as work with 'em an' don't know what t'do from all /over/ the place. An' we've had folks comin' from a pretty good distance t'the Clinic, too. It's rough they don't got nobody t'follow up with at home for anythin' medical, most of the time." Micah takes a bite of strawberry toast before returning it to his plate, collecting his fork to start breaking off small portions of omelette. "Started lookin' into office an' shop space. S'kinda hard t'find. Gotta consolidate everythin'. Have the workshop with a metal shop, storage, patient treatment areas, office space...all together. Already been lookin' into hirin' some help with the simpler deliveries an' whatnot. Gonna need t'get someone t'do schedulin' an' all from the office. Janine's amazin', but just handlin' the finances an' insurance is gettin' t'be time consumin' enough for her without the other things." "Amazing." Matt echoes this happily. Maybe in response to Micah's answer about work or maybe in response to the bite of omelette he's just taken; he eats it with a /pleased/ smile. Lucien slices off a bit of omelette to nestle it onto his toast, taking a bite of both together. "It is a shame more places have not followed the Clinic's example. I mean, I know there are very few mutants around but you would think at least in the bigger cities, somewhere, a similar model would have shown up." "Hopefully run by /not/-creepy people." Matt gives a very faint shudder, here, eyes drifting down to fix on the food. His next bite he takes more slowly, very deliberate about chewing and swallowing. "Do you know," he sounds abruptly amused, though there's still tension in his form, "the /Osborn/ Institute sent me a letter just this week. I guess with -- that Registration leak and /some/ of our names being spread all over everywhere -- after some of the trouble some people have been having over it they're, ah." His nose scrunches up, a kind of distasteful expression crossing his face. "/Reaching out/. Out of the goodness of their heart I'm sure. Telling us we can all come there and be safe and protected and have free healthcare and room and board and everything." There's a very definite shudder that passes up him; he sets his fork down, fingers running through his dark hair to trace a -- once-familiar habitual path against the side of his head. "Just kind of wonder how long it'd be before /they/ started cutting into --" His fingers press harder against his skull and then drop back to the table. Lucien watches this trace of fingers, quiet as he continues eating his toast and omelette. "I might have a space that works reasonably well, for you," he offers Micah after this, quiet and thoughtful but with a note of hesitation to the words. A smile brightens Micah's features further at Matt's reaction to the omelette, before he starts eating his own. "It's hard. Clinic's workin' on a lotta grant an' donation money. Still a fair percentage of the patients there as are uninsured, unemployed...just generally not in the best place ever. Ain't nobody else opened nothin' similar 'cause it's high risk an' at least low /financial/ reward. S'the opposite of what most people are lookin' t'do with a business." Micah almost drops his fork at the mention of Osborn. "Don't. Don't do /anythin'/ with /anythin'/ related t'that man. He's surely up t'no good. I mean, I try...not t'pre-judge people too much, but he sets off every creepy-dar an' warnin' system I've /got/. I mean. Didn't help with 'im havin' that /unhealthy/ obsession with Jax there for awhile." Micah's eyebrows loft in tandem, curious. "You...have a space with alla that? Really?" "But /Micah/ they offered me free room and board," Matt explains with a small chuckle. "I'm actually concerned for how many people are in desperate enough places to jump on the idea. I mean, /we're/ doing great. We can /afford/ to pack up and move if someone comes to our house harassing me. Most people -- a lot of people out there are barely keeping a roof over their heads as-is." "Reasonably well. Perhaps." Lucien still sounds a little uncertain. "I would have to see about expanding it into -- but the offices adjacent are vacant, so it would be a simple enough matter." He lifts his tea for another long sip, hand turning upwards. "I imagine the space itself would need to be somewhat refitted to your particular equipment needs but we --" "-- sort of took over Hive's old space." Matt sounds -- oddly apologetic about this. "It's got its own offices and the /workshop/ space is /enormous/, I -- may have felt a little." He fidgets uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. "I mean, someone had to take care of his fish and it has these gorgeous photos and paintings of Jax's and Jim's of his work up on the wall and I just didn't want some /stranger/ --" There's a little bit of a tremble to his voice; to his hand, as well, where he's clenched fingers tight around his fork. "I definitely could see people as don't know any better doin' it, yeah," Micah says with a sigh as he spears a slice of starfruit from his salad. "It sounds amazin' on paper. Too-good-to-be-true amazin'. Which I'm sure it is." He stares down at the little star on his fork for a moment as Lucien explains. "You...picked up Hive's office? Did. Um. Is it bein' used for anythin' or just sittin' there? I mean, if I were to... I'd have t'see if it's appropriately zoned for the kinda chemicals an' the metal shop an'...if it'd be able t'handle the kinda ventilation an' all that'd be needed, but..." He swallows hard and nods. "Right. S'better than...some strangers takin' over. His things an' the fish should have a good home." "It is empty," Lucien replies. There's a weary sort of patience to his tone that suggests /perhaps/ he and his brother have had many A Conversation about the /practicality/ (or lack thereof) of keeping the space. "There was nothing we needed it for, Matt simply did not want --" "They /died/ for me," Matt cuts Lucien off with uncharacteristic intensity, fingers still clenched hard around his fork. "I don't know what I was supposed to -- I /still/ don't know how I'm supposed to -- there are /so/ many people dead right now just to keep /me/ here for -- /whatever/ reason I can't /possibly/ imagine. And I /felt/ him. I felt -- /all/ of them but he --" His eyes close, and he sets his fork down, bowing his head to press his fingers against his eyes. "I'm sorry, this is not -- good food conversation." Micah finally eats the bit of fruit from his fork, though the swallowing of it is a little too hard as Matt starts talking. "Honey. Honey, it wasn't even...just for you. It was for everyone who was there. We couldn't've known what they would...do. Or /why/ y'were the only one they didn't put the device in. Maybe they were afraid it would interfere with your ability more'n the others, or..." He reaches across the table to curl a hand around Matt's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "They was goin' t'try t'help those people whether you was there or not. It's a...blessin' that we got /you/ back, even if we lost...all those people. If it weren't for gettin' you back, would've been nothin' /but/ people dyin'. An'...well. Prometheus gettin' shut down. There's still that. Enough horror captured for the public t'finally shut 'em down." "I don't feel like much of a blessing. I feel like if I'd just died naturally like I was /supposed/ to, Hive and Flicker would still be here. That picture of me would never have been drawn and their team would never have walked into that /slaughter/." Matt's hands stay pressed to his eyes. "Dusk wouldn't -- run off on his bloody crusade and -- your husband might /sleep/ ever. It's just --" He shakes his head, hands lowering to curl his fingers against Micah's. "I don't know. I can still /feel/ him in my head when he felt all those people die. They blew all those chips and it was just -- just screaming, just --" He shudders, a little pale. "And then I just don't even /remember/ most of the month afterwards. Just all this death and I was too /useless/ to even help people -- deal in the aftermath -- and maybe Flicker could've been /helped/ more if I wasn't --" "Wasn't what." Lucien interrupts, now; in contrast to his brother's intensity, his voice is just quiet-cool and completely level. "If I had let you die and restored his mind instead? It was all I could /do/ just to keep you, and he was /far/ worse --" "I'm not /blaming/ you. I just -- there's just been /so many lives/ that --" Matt swallows, hard. "And for what? What am /I/ even doing with /my/ life?" His other hand, shaky, lifts his cup of tea. Reflexively, Lucien reaches up a hand to steady the cup. Matt sips at it slowly. "I know I should be grateful." He lowers the tea, and his fingers brush against the design on the front of his shirt with a tiny very sad twitch of smile. "But I kind of just want a time machine." "Honey, no. Y'know we been lookin' for every one of those labs we could find. An' who knows? Maybe they were just plannin' on puttin' the explosives into /everyone/ over time. An' any lab they went into would've ended...like that. Maybe yours was just one of the earlier ones. But they're /over/ now, so they can't /do/ that t'anyone anymore. Like I said, that's one of the things we got..." Micah's head shakes as Matt mentions Flicker. "No, Matt. Flicker was...his body was here but his mind was /gone/ as soon as Hive died. There weren't no comin' back from that for 'im. Luci did right focusin' on tryin' t'bring you back. 'Cause there was /hope/ for you where there weren't for Flicker. Jax...ain't never been one for sleepin'. B'lieve me, I've been 'round his nightmares gettin' projected at the room long enough. That weren't none of your fault. An' Dusk's...been...headed a bad way ever since Ian, really. We should've seen it earlier an' done somethin' for 'im earlier, it's just... That ain't your fault, neither." Micah's hand pats at Matt's arm. "/There's/ a complaint we can do somethin' about. Y'ain't /gotta/ feel like you're wastin' time. What d'you wanna do? What d'you need t'do it? Y'got so many people who'll help yout t'get there, who love you." Matt is quiet, for a while, closing his eyes and taking slow steadying breaths. He straightens, then, pulling back his arm so that he can continue eating his omelette. "Do?" He opens his eyes a little wider, faintly puzzled-looking at this question. "I mean, I already --" His smile twitches, small and wry. "I'm /good/ at my job." "You have had more than enough practice." Lucien's tone here is dry. He returns to eating his omelette, too, still with quiet relish despite the subject matters at hand. "But it is hardly what you /planned/ to do with your life." "I don't think anyone really goes into life thinking they want to be a whore," Matt answers with a soft chuckle that doesn't /quite/ match the bright-glisten threatening, still, to spill out of his eyes. "But it's what I'm --" He draws in a slow breath. "I was thinking about going back to school. Not that I ever really got to start. But I kind of --" His cheeks flush, darker. "-- want to be a social worker. I mean, all these people who've died /helping/ me -- I can't fill the spots they -- I can't /do/ what they did for their team. But I can still do -- /something/. And /gods/ there's -- certainly enough people out there who need the help." “I mean...yeah, so you're /good/ at it, but do you /like/ it? Ain't nothin' wrong with keepin' at it if you /want/ to. Or...usin' that for makin' money t'get t'somethin' else y'wanna do.” As Matt calms, Micah also returns to eating. “Y'/should/ go back t'school. Social work's a great field. Incredibly...overworked, underpaid, and often kinda...abused. But it's amazin' work that they do.” "I kept quite a /few/ of my regular clients," Lucien admits with an easy smile and warm amusement: "Broadway does not pay anywhere /near/ as well as performing with my clothing /off/." Matt snorts, rubbing at the back of his neck and then polishing off the last of his omelette. He picks up the toast afterwards to nibble at it. "I can deal with overworked. And Luci'll just support my poor career decisions, he's a big star and all. I think I just -- need to kind of -- accept that I /have/ a life to live, you know? This whole past year I've been -- maybe just having a lot of denial and -- guilt. About even being here." "Which, I am sure," Lucien murmurs dryly, "is /exactly/ how everyone would be wanting you to spend your time." “Get the right play an' y'can...get paid less t'still perform with your clothin' off,” Micah suggests half-thoughtfully, half-teasingly. “It's a good idea. I think y'needed some time just t'/recover/, honestly. Y'been through a /lot/. But if you're startin' t'feel restless, maybe that's a sign that it's time t'start lookin' at which school has the program y'want an' all.” A little grin comes at Lucien's murmuring. “Which /would/ prob'ly be a better an more fulfillin' use of your time.” Lucien shoots Micah an amused look, there, his amused /smile/ only growing to warm his brilliant green eyes. "Perhaps. Though I feel your husband may have thought the costumes were among the best /part/ of our show." "They're /really bright/," Matt does say, lifting his hand to wipe away his still-unshed tears, /his/ smile easing back into just warm-content. "I mean, /really/ really bright." He finishes his toast, reaching to dollop some whipped cream onto his fruit salad before he picks its small bowl up to eat it. "Sera's thrown herself into gymnastics and aerial arts /just/ so she gets to wear one some day. She wants to be one of the circus performers." "I /have/ tried explaining to her that shows do not run indefinitely but --" Lucien shrugs, scooping up the last of his omelette. "There will be other circuses, at least." "There'll be other lots of things." Matt settles back in his chair, head tipping up towards the ceiling. "I just never spent a lot of time in life thinking /we/ could really have any of them." His smile curls a touch wider. "It's funny how life -- kind of works out, sometimes." “Oh, he liked 'em a whole lot. A whole-whole lot. But I wouldn't say it was his favourite part.” Micah's lopsided grin grows as the others find a lighter tone. “An' yeah, I'm sure she'd be pleased with the costumes in most circus-type performances that involve aerial acrobatics. They tend t'go for /flash/ in the costumin'.” He moves back to eating omelette-bites. “It's good she's got things she wants t'do /and/ she can work on 'em an' enjoy 'em. S'one of the best things y'can have in life.” "No," Matt says this lightly with a glance flicked to his brother, "I think he found plenty else to enjoy. -- His Twitter said he actually came at the end of 'Corner of the Sky' -- and look, Micah, I know theater isn't /as/ formal an affair as it used to be but you're really not supposed to be taking /quite/ that many liberties in your seats." "Having attended many theatrical performances with my clients," Lucien replies to this, straight-faced, "I can say from /personal/ experience that they would not be the first couple to do so." Matt's brows do hike up at this, and he nearly chokes on a slice of strawberry in his fruit salad. One fist thumps against his chest as he coughs, quiet, redirecting the topic instead back to: "-- It's kind of what we're here to give them, right? I mean, it seems like you've kind of helped your boys along into pretty much the same place. It's -- nice to be /able/ to give that to them." Micah's face flushes an immediate bright cherry-red at the teasing accusation from Matt. "I'm. Pretty sure that was just hyperbole on his. That he didn't. I mean. I didn't even /say/ he could much less. Oh/gosh/, we didn't. Nothin' like that." He stuffs his mouth with a particularly large forkful of omelette to give himself an excuse not to even try talking again for awhile. Lucien's addition doesn't help the red climbing up into his ears and neck. Then Matt bails him back out and he shoots a grateful look across the table. "Yeah, it's good that it's finally workin' out for both of 'em. That's exactly what I've /wanted/ for 'em all this time." Matt's grin just spreads bright and amused at Micah's expected /fluster/. He reaches across the table, squeezing the other man on the shoulder. "They're lucky to have you." Lucien just picks up his tea to sip at the rest of it, slow and content. "After this breakfast? I would say we all are."