ArchivedLogs:Housekeeping

Housekeeping
Dramatis Personae Jack, Micah	9 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Arts and Crafts Room - Lower East Side
The art studio of the Harbor Commons is fairly neutral in base coloration. Easy to clean linoleum tiles in soft gray run up against darker gray baseboard. Overhead is a simple ceiling, unfinished but sprayed with a protecting paint to keep moisture, dirt, and other assorted substances do not stick. There is an exhaust fan to carry heavier fumes up and out, keeping the workspace usable all year. Where they can be seen, the walls are the color of white chalk, flecked here and there with paint, but for the most part, the walls are stacked with supplies, storage, and equipment. There's a small section for wood working, places to store canvases and larger drawings, and cabinets a plenty. In the center of the room, there are work tables aplenty, three at sitting height with a third set up for standing height, next to the open space for the easels. Two deep, stainless steel sinks face off against wide tall windows that open the craft room up to the outside, allowing air and sunlight in, weather permitting. Jack never was one to think he had any artistic talent so it might be strange to find him in an arts and crafts room but he'd come across a paintbrush that had somehow made its way into the hallway and come in to return it to its proper place. In his hoodie and jeans again, his hood at the moment and he's just closing the cabinet after putting away that wayward brush. Micah is still a little damp from getting caught in the downpour on his way home. Even having left his outermost layers, boots, and umbrella by the door, the Firefly hoodie covering his work clothes (the ubiquitous TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis) is wet from hood to collar and his pants are damp from hem to mid-calf. His typically-tousled auburn hair is straight-out /messy/ from being hidden away under wet cotton and wool, sticking out all at odd spiky angles. He has made it up to the third floor on a series of “Hey, have you seen Jack?”s delivered to people he runs into in the Common House on his way in. His knuckles rap lightly on the open door before he enters. “Hey, Jack. Y'bein' artsy or just cleanin' the room?” His smile is warm and crooked with the playful greeting. Thankfully dry from not having ventured out much today, Jack jumps slightly. Looking over his shoulder, he offers a smile in return. "Just cleaning up. Found a runaway brush and put it back with the others," he replies, turning to face the older man. "My art's so bad people wish it was as invisible as I am anyway," he tries a joke. The invisible teen stretches a little as he steps away from the cabinet. "Did you just get back?" he asks, noting the wet look. "Oh, I'm sure it's not /that/ bad." Micah ambles into the room slowly, leaning up against a work table as a decent enough place to stop. "Did just get in. Weather's just...ugh, lately. But at least it ain't snow an' ice." He nods to the cabinet. "Y'know y'ain't gotta do that? The constant chores thing? I know I said y'could find a thing or two t'do if y'wanted for sleepin' over an' food or whatnot, but...really, it needn't be an occupation. Think a couple folks are startin' t'fret over it a bit." There is a hint of amusement tracing through his tone at this last assertion. "Yeah, the weather's bad. It wouldn't be so bad if the wind weren't making it worse," Jack sighs with a glance out the window. "Glad I decided against going out today," he adds with a chuckle. He rubs the back of his neck a little and looks as sheepish as empty clothes can. "I know but I feel bad just staying around and not doing anything," he admits. "People are worrying?" “Well, we picked up a sixteen-year-old kid an' now he's spendin' all his time cleanin' our place. Startin' t'feel a little...scullery maid. Or indentured servitude-y. Is all.” The observations remain casual, though not entirely teasing. “Have y'thought 'bout findin' somethin' t'do with your time for /you/? S'just that sittin' 'round here cleanin' house ain't a forever plan, y'know.” Micah pulls up a chair at this, settling into it and gesturing for Jack to take another if he wishes. "Or just a friendly, house keeping ghost," Jack jokes. He lets out a breath as he moves to get a chair for himself. It reminds him of what he was talking to Dusk about yesterday. "The work's kinda been helping me think too. Easier to think when I'm busy than when I'm laying around bored," he shrugs. "But I have been thinking. About a lot of things." Micah's lips curl into another grin at the joke. "Might hafta re-name y'Casper, keep up on that front." He nods as Jack explains that he's been thinking things through. "That's good. That's good. Mind sharin' what's been on your mind? School or work or longer-term livin' arrangements? Anythin' I might be able t'help y'find?" "I think I might get sued for that," Jack replies. He looks down at the table a moment and shakes his head. "Really...I don't know what I want to do with life. I mean...before this mutant stuff kicked in on me, I played football. Had dreams of going all the way to the NFL," he shrugs. "I figure if I go to school I can at least learn some stuff while I try to figure out what I want to do. It's not like I have many other skills," he says. "Point taken," Micah answers with a chuff of laughter over the legal concern. "Well, when y'don't know what y'wanna do long-term, there's usually 'bout two real options. Y'find a job you're qualified for /now/ t'support yourself while y'figure it out or get on-the-job trainin'. Or y'go t'school while y'figure it out or get school-based trainin'. S'a matter of which is more appealin' an' reasonable t'you." The redhead's fingertips drum on the table for a moment. "Now, /you/ got the additional consideration of an ability that'll make it harder for you t'find work /and/ that y'don't know how t'control or handle just yet. That /does/ put a point in favour of the school we been talkin' 'bout, since they might be able t'help on that front, too. In addition t'bein' more stable housin' an' whatnot." "Yeah," Jack sighs. "Dusk brought that up when I was talking to him last night. Pretty much no one is going to hire the Invisible Man," he says. "I don't think the whole invisible thing comes with a controller but I could use work on this telekinesis thing," he says, a little embarrassed about how he's slipped up with it in the past. "Just...if I go there, are they going to have to try to contact my parents or anything like that?" "Well, there /are/ places. Prob'ly more'n I know of, but they /do/ need folks even for unskilled jobs at places like Evolve or the Mendel Clinic. An' they'll hire folks pretty much n'matter what they look like. As far as other places? Sometimes y'have enough skill an' that /can/ get you in t'some. B an' Peter both work for Stark in R&D, for example. An' there are jobs y'can work from the computer, like Dusk does, where what y'look like just don't come up as much." Again, Micah nods affirmation at the power control issue. "They've had folks as turn invisible an' folks as have telekinesis there /both/, that I know of, even. An' I ain't been there that long m'self. S'a definite sellin' point." His head shakes /firmly/ at the question of parents. "Y'said your parents tossed you out an' might wish y'harm? They aren't gonna force y'back there. We've got students whose parents sold 'em t'government labs t'be experimented on an' worse. They certainly haven't made /them/ contact their parents." Jack shudders slightly. "Clinic probably isn't a good idea. Needles and stuff...kinda freak me out," he says. "I don't think I'm qualified to work at Stark's place or do much computer stuff. I mean I know how to use them but I can't write programs or anything. At least not if anyone wants them to work," he laughs. There's a relieved sigh from Jack at that news though. "Good. Just...good," he waves it off. "I kinda ran before they had the chance to toss me out. Dad was talking about finding a place to sell me to," he says. "Does the school...help people graduating find things? Like jobs or places to live?" "Was just examples, sugar. Not sayin' y'should be doin' any of 'em." The amusement returning to Micah's expression almost certainly has more to do with Stark's crazysauce company...and self...than anything they're talking about. That amusement gutters right out as Jack continues. "Ohgosh, honey, I'm... I been 'round so much of that you'd think it'd stop bein'... I dunno. Fresh awful? But it never does get t'feel that way. I hate that y'had t'go through that." He is pleased enough to offer another nod at the last questions. "Sure do. Ev'ry student there gets their own advisor. An' there's academic advisin'. An' advisin' for careers or colleges or whatnot goin' out. An'.../time/ can be a blessin' just t'figure out what t'do an' how t'go 'bout it. There's some life skills classes, too? S'mostly what I do there. Talkin' 'bout finances an' medical-legal systems an' such. They try t'make it so y'can figure out where t'fit yourself into the world as best they can." "Oh, man...I am dumb sometimes," Jack replies, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances back up with a small, unseen smile. "It's okay. It's just...yeah. Fresh awful. Probably better if none of us do get used to it," he remarks. He whistles a little as Micah answers his question, leaning back. "Well, add a few more points in the school's favor," he replies. "That all sounds like stuff I could use. Especially the fitting in thing." "Not dumb. Just caught up in the details on account of you're busy livin' it." Micah just chews on his lip for a moment at the reiteration of the awful. "It's a good place. Does a lot for folks who wouldn't have a lotta options otherwise. Now, don't get me wrong. S'got issues. Ask any of the kids goin' there, I'm sure they'll recite you a laundry list long as your arm. But they mean well an' they react t'concerns from students an' their families. Which counts for an awful lot." His fingertips drum at the table again, but this time with a brighter sort of decision-sound. "We should have y'visit if you've got any degree of certainty that you're wantin' t'go. I'll hafta ask Jax how that works. I ain't exactly ferried anyone there m'self just yet. Know he's done it more'n a few times." He pauses again, lips twitching over to one side as he glances up at the ceiling, then slowly returns his gaze to the invisible teen. "But y'do need t'come up with a decision on what direction y'wanna go. Like I was sayin', just hangin' here ain't a long term solution. S'a couple days t'help get y'outta the weather an' get some food in you so y'could think on more'n just panic-survival mode." A self-deprecating grin slowly creeps into his expression. "If I got t'keep everybody I tried t'lend a hand to as was in a situation here without nobody checkin' me? It'd end up crazy cat lady but with /people/. I gotta remember t'let folks figure themselves out, too." "Yeah...I got the impression B is not a fan of the place," Jack remarks, remembering that conversation. "Pretty sure no school gets a full on approval from students going there. At least not without creepy pod person brainwashing," he says with a hint of amusement. "A visit would be nice. Or at least talking to the people in charge," he says. "Should I find out what size blindfold I am for the trip?" he jokes. He laughs at the image of Micah running a home for stray people. "Just means you're a charitable guy. One of the nicest I've ever met," he says. There's a delay before he looks back up. "I...I play at being a ghost sometimes but there used to be days when I felt like one. Like I didn't have much to do but go through motions...find food, find shelter, survive. But...meeting you and Shane and the others. It's given me the chance to I dunno...start feeling like an actual person again. Like I've got a chance at a decent future again and...thanks. A lot." "B's...had a harder time of it even than average for a person whose X-gene has physical manifestations. So if y'want the /full/ grievance list, ze's a good place t'go. But at least y'can rest assured that it ain't Stepford School." Micah chuckles at Jack's return to joking, the mood lightened a bit. "Mmn. Bleedin' heart's me. I'm glad it's been a positive experience for you. I'll talk t'Jax 'bout what t'do for gettin' you over t'the school as soon as possible. Either way, we'll get y'settled out by the end of the week, okay? Whether you're goin' straight t'the school, or you end up findin' some job applications an' want help with settin' up at a shelter for awhile while y'figure that out, or y'come up with some option I'm not even thinkin' of. I'm not /pushin'/ you toward anythin' specific, even if m'bias is glarin'-neon obvious." He lifts his hands to either side of his face in an almost jazz-hands gesture. Glaring! "You're more'n welcome sugar. Just...no more compulsive cleanin' meanwhile, okay? Your job is figurin' out where your next step is within the next couple of days. S'a big enough job." "Sorry about uh...startling Spencer to England, by the way. I just saw a little kid falling and well...two heart attacks in a row," Jack apologizes sheepishly. "I...think I'll hold off on asking for that list. I don't think that's a conversation that'll be nice," he says, shaking his head. "And alright, I'll focus on me instead of cleaning for a bit. I'm sure there'll be people disappointed they don't get off chore duty anymore," he laughs. He takes a deep breath before clearing his throat. "Though...speaking of the future...there's something else I wanted to talk to you about." Micah sighs heavily at that apology...not that he doesn't appreciate it, just, "Weren't the first time an' won't be the last with Spence. He landed on solid ground an' not in any danger. Just had t'hop 'imself back. No real harm done." He actually snorts a little at the chores. "Only Dusk. But he runs security an' whatnot, so it weren't like y'was doin' his part anyhow." The additional lead-up tilts Micah's head inquisitively, a little birdlike. "Oh?" Jack nods a bit. He still feels bad about the whole thing. He manages a little chuckle though. "I dunno, a ghost could be pretty good security. No one would try to break in but meddling kids and their dogs," another joke attempt. The pleasant attitude fades a bit as he moves onto the next subject though. "You know those messed up future dreams you and Peter were talking about when I ran into you? Well...I had one of those the other night." “Hm.” The joke earns a little half-laugh, at least. Micah nods, brow furrowed at the topic change. “Oh. M'...apologies, that couldn't've been pleasant. S'it somethin' y'wanted t'talk about or just confusin' or... There's so many ways I could see this comin' from.” "I'm...I dunno. Just from the way you two were talking I figured you might want to know about it," Jack replies awkwardly. "Dusk was in it. And this guy named Ash," it's good he's invisible since Jack is blushing when he says that name. “No, no, that's good. Information is good. An' that means Dusk an' Ash're still alive. Ash lives here, too,” Micah finally pauses to explain. He is eager for more future information but hesitant to prod at that awkwardness. “Was there anythin' goin' on in the dream y'wanted t'talk about?” "Yeah, Dusk is...going to introduce me to him," Jack sounds a little nervous about that but he takes a deep breath before explaining. "We were in this...messed up prison camp. Like something out of World War Two," he begins. "There were a bunch of huge robots too. They were the guards...they were drugging people to keep them from using their powers. I got...sent in as a spy," there's a pause, Jack still kind of amazed at that. "I was finding information so there could be a breakout or something but...it was bad. They were rounding up mutants no matter how old they were and sticking them there. Beating people...killing people. It was...fucked up majorly." Micah manages to suppress the eyebrow lift at the nervousness. Mostly. It's more of an eyebrow /twitch/ that escapes. He takes a deep breath after the rest of it. “That...tracks with the ones I've had so far. An' Peter's. The robots an' the depowerin' an' the people with abilities in hidin'. Were there any other details that stuck out? Sometimes these dreams're just really random seemin', so it's okay if not. Just tryin' t'piece t'gether whatever there is.” "The whole area around the place was messed up. Like a bomb went off and wiped it all out. And it was far from the city. I don't know how far exactly," Jack answers. "That's all I've got," he says. "Sorry there's nothing more helpful." "No, that's okay, sugar. That's good. Thanks for tellin' me. Just...let me know if y'get anythin' else from another one of those, alright?" Micah glances down at his watch with a grimace. "I gotta be goin', though. Lunch break's only so long an' I gotta raid the fridge on the way back out. I'll ask what needs t'be done t'get y'movin' on with the school, though. Prob'ly see y'round later tonight." Nodding, Jack gets up. "Ok. And thanks again," he says. "Drive safe out there," he offers.