ArchivedLogs:Housewarming With Fire

Housewarming With Fire
Dramatis Personae Micah, Lucien, Kay	6 June 2014 Visiting the new house. /Not/ burning it down.
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 front door opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by the half-wall into the kitchen -- cool pale tile underfoot and dark cabinets, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench window seats lining the sills. A staircase leads off from the living room to the second floor. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom and a small studio space with large windows and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls. In the 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. The light through the windows is waning as the day stretches thin into night. The house is mostly empty, save a few odds and ends that Jax and Micah have collected for the future ends of decorating and furnishing. These are largely stacked in a corner of the living room: bath mats and paints, wood and stains, fixtures and parts. Spencer has already disappeared into his room, empty though it is, to show it off in all its unfurnished glory. Stern reminders to stay out of the upstairs bathroom and its plethora of tiny glass pieces on their way to becoming another of Jax's mosaics have been issued and at least responded to in the affirmative by the children. Micah tidies a few things away in the stuff-pile to make sure that no one is going to be tripping over them. Lucien is not tidying. He has unleashed his SmallChild contingent to follow Spencer upstairs and is instead shamelessly nosing about, drifting in to the kitchen (clearly the most important of rooms) to trail his fingers lightly against countertops, lean in to /peer/ at the colourful strip of mosaic-work making up the splashboard in the kitchen. "... he did this all himself?" It's an absent quiet murmur, eyes narrowing curiously on the little glassworked faeries and firelizards. He is dressed casually, today, though his jeans are still quite neatly /tailored/, paired with a soft green short-sleeved henley shirt. With all the traffic outside, you might not notice the rev of a throaty engine that approaches, then comes to a stop. After a few moments of nothing else comes: NOK-NOK-... NOK NOK NOK? These are rapid and exuberant knocks, but they manage to actually NOT be all that violent OR aggressive. More excited! Curious? If there's a window on or around the door, a blond head is peering in through it. Bounce-peek? "Heeeey anyone home?" Muffles a scratchy voice. Once the pile is somewhat sorted, Micah trails after Lucien into the kitchen. His casual dress is simply that: no tailoring involved, faded bluejeans and a black T-shirt with an Impressionist Serenity flying through a Starry Night inspired sky on its front. "Yeah, that's how he's been keepin' 'imself busy lately. I had t'talk 'im down t'/one/ wall per room gettin' mural-ed. His original plan would've had the whole /house/ covered." His head tilts curiously at the knocking, tousled auburn hair flopping a bit more over to one side with the movement. "Wonder who that could be? Coupla folks /have/ actually moved in already." The voice shatters that theory. "Kay?" Micah excuses himself to go answer the door. "Hey, hon, what brings y'by? We haven't actually moved in yet, so y'sorta lucked out that someone's here today. How are you?" He backs out of the doorway, gesturing to invite the other man inside. "Gods have mercy on your poor eyes. I'm glad you did talk him down, I would certainly not have been visiting much then -- but. In moderation this work is exquisite. Does he take commissions on /this/ sort of thing?" Lucien straightens at the knocking, shifting over to lean his elbows against the countertop and peer out towards the door. "Oh. You." There's a small twitch at the corners of his mouth, a note of amusement lighting his green eyes. "You know they've not yet moved in. There's really nothing here worth looting." "That sounds like a /challenge/, Boy-Barbie," Kay grins /savagely/ at the sight of Lucien over Micah's shoulder. Except it's Micah that is getting the LOVE, Kay's long lanky arms opening to offer hugs if it seems NATURAL and welcomed. In one of his hand is a bottle of water, on his body is enough sturdy-worn denim and patches to make biking safe and stylish both and in his eyes is a bright glint to dart his eyes around the new home /hungrily/. He's absently adding, "Yeah, you can see that beastmobile you drive parked a mile away holy /shit/ Jax did that wall didn't he." He's moving past to... possibly touch it. "That's what I said. /One/ wall." Micah chuckles softly at that, shaking his head. "I'm sure he would. Got the worst puppy eyes when I asked 'im /not/ t'cover the whole place." He returns Kay's hug with a tight squeeze, closing up behind the other man once he is released and rejoining the congregation in the kitchen. "Mmhmm, s'all Jax. He's decoratin' like mad." One brow quirks at Lucien's looting comment, his lips pressing thin to avoid laughing at the Barbie nickname in reply. "Why would Kay be lootin' our house?" Lucien's smile spreads a little wider, a small glint of teeth and a brief silent breath of laughter as Kay enters. He spreads his hands in front of him, palm-up. "I was just asking Micah if he thought his husband might be willing to take a commission and do mine, too. Judging by what his work was selling for in his latest show, /this/ bit of tiling might be the most valuable thing currently /in/ this house." He drops his hands to the counter, raising his brows to Micah. "-- Look at this place. It's fantastic. Come, now, wouldn't /you/ want to loot it?" OOMF. Hug back is equally tight. "Boy does pretty much everything 'like mad'," Kay's long, long fingers are oddly musical in how they tap-tap---taptaptap! dance-walk down the side of the wall, touching a different color each time. "Arts like mad. Works like mad. /Fights/ like mad." He throws up a dramatic POINTING finger at the end of an extended arm in Lucien's direction, like this is some mad stage musical, "Looted /his/ house." "Well, there ain't much /in/ the house at all right now. An' the artwork's kinda...attached. So there wouldn't /be/ much t'loot." Micah just shrugs and shakes his head a little. "Can't say I've ever felt the burnin' desire t'break into houses an' take things." He manages to say this apologetically, somehow. "He does tend t'put everythin' into whatever he's doin'... /Kay/." There is a decidedly disappointed parent tone to his voice, matched in expression. "If y'tell me you're the one dumped most of Luci's tea on the floor, I might have to disown you." "He does have a /passion/ to him, doesn't he." It's hard to really read much into Lucien's quietly neutral tone at this. /His/ fingertips trail against the counter, looking down at its colourful flecks with a thoughtful appreciation. "That, Micah," he says with soft amusement, "is because you had land to hunt, safe harbor, and some very enterprising people scavenging for you through the plague. I suspect the impulse grows a good deal stronger when your family is starving and there is a horde of dead closing in." His lips do press together at the mention of the tea, though, thinning as his eyes drop to the counter. "Though. The tea was egregious." "Been looting long before the dead started walking, don't need a horde to still be hungry," Kay grins, giving the wall one last pat, "Nothing attached that can't get unattached. Luckily for you guys," he drops his hand away, "It looks better here. Maybe I'll just loot the /spectacle/. Take folk on secret tours when I know you're outta town." He's gonna start poking around /more/, now, arms extended to enjoy that wide-open space feeling of an empty house, "We were lookin' for mate." SCAVENGING mate. "Mmhm. But y'were talkin' 'bout lootin' the place /now/. With a distinct lack of zombie." Micah chuckles at the idea of tour groups through the house. "Y'know we always have all of everybody in our house. Might not gain y'much t'try for secret tours if folks don't usually hafta wait for us t'be gone." He blinks a few times at Kay's answer regarding the tea. "I'm gonna choose t'think you're jokin'. Don't disillusion me." He claps Kay on the shoulder before reflexively moving to /fetch things/, seeing as they're in a kitchen. That happens to be /his/ kitchen. "I'd offer drinks or food or...somethin'. But it's kinda empty in here just yet." "You never know when zombie might happen," Lucien murmurs, "I saw just last week an attack on a family in Staten Island in the paper." His lips press thinner together at the mention of mate-hunting. His hand lifts, fingertips pressing at the bridge of his nose. "-- some people, though," he tells Micah, /longsuffering/, "/deserve/ to be eaten by zombies." Slosh! Kay waggles his water bottle to imply he /does/ already have a drink. "/Some/ people say they can fucking try," with his teeth flashing, he jerks a chin at Micah, "Hey, Jax's photo-shit been coming back too, right?" Brows hiking up like AWESOME, right? "Isolated incidents still happen. But /zombie/ is way dif'rent from /zombies/. One zombie is cause for runnin' away. Or killin' a zombie. Not for lootin' like when you're overrun with the things." Micah shakes his head sadly. "Luci. Nobody /deserves/ t'get eaten by zombies." This time the disapproving parent tone comes with a clearly self-deprecating edge. "Yeah, Jax's been startin' t'light up a bit again. How're you doin', hon?" "/Nobody/, that's a stretch. I can think of quite a few people I would gladly see fed to zombies. Most of them, admittedly," Lucien muses, "in public office. -- Oh. Goodness. Did you get hit by that, too? It is fortunate it wears off. Though it's been a -- a month gone now, non?" There's a distinctly /curious/ note in his voice, his hand lifting as though to reach for Kay, though he checks himself and returns his elbow to the counter shortly. "One or /got/ zombied, if the papers got it right," Kay chk-chk's a pistol with his fingers at Lucien and Micah, one then the other, like freaking Yosemite Sam. His hands drop back to his sides again to continue wandering, at least not visibly shoving silverware in his pockets while he's at it. "Dunno how much is wearing off but uh - yeah. Lil. More by the day. Almost set my fucking bed on fire. Kinda like I'm a kid again." This isn't said with GREAT glee, teeth a little gritted, but he's still grinning anyway. "Too bad, huh? All these sad bitches in HAMMER and then this cult, all trying so hard to pose as mutants, I was gonna show 'em all how to go human in fucking style. How's the leg?" BY THE WAY. The thoughtful glance down to Lucien's aborted hand, and Kay raises his brows thoughtfully, extending a hand. "That's...not funny, that actually happened," Micah observes with a small grimace. "I mean it...nobody deserves t'actually get eaten by zombies. Ugh." He nods along with Luci's observation. "Most of Jax's team got hit this time, seemed like. I'm hopin' they can figure that stuff out an' how t'counteract it. Our best plan right now is...armour. Don't let the darts hit t'begin with. S'kinda a /bulky/ answer." His lips twitch upward a touch. "I keep a fire extinguisher /and/ a couple of fire blankets in the bedroom for Jax. On top of the strategically placed fire suppression tools throughout the rest of the house. But, yeah. Beds get singe-y sometimes." Reaching down, he tugs the cuff of his left pants leg up a bit, showing the metal shaft of the lower portion of the limb. "Better. S'robotic again. No more Sublime in m'head." "I found it quite entertaining. Some zombies set their sights higher than others, I suppose." Lucien glances down at Kay's hand, the corners of his lips twitching slightly before he lifts his own hand again to clasp the other man's firmly. His eyes slip half-closed as other senses extend, twining out in quiet exploration of Kay's mind -- and specifically the current state of his slowly-returning abilities. "What /did/ happen to that man?" "Son. Sometimes," Kay hikes up his brows /real/ high to Micah while Lucien takes his paw, "Nature is just gonna take its course. And bitches gonna get et. What folks /deserve/ ain't never mattered in this fucking world." His hand is feverishly /warm/, mind bright and lively with a faint adrenal aggression. Also some odd amassment of whatever chemicals are associated with rapid healing. "Pff, I got that angle cornered at least. Fire's /mine/, I don't want it to spread, it doesn't." This is as close as Kay gets to a depreciated grin; mostly just crooked, "Well. Anymore. Great thing about second mutant-puberty is I got /control/ of this shit now." "You're terrible," Micah declares of Lucien, though there isn't any bite to the words. "Just 'cause things happen don't mean y'gotta wish 'em. Or even like 'em none." He turns his palms up at the question of what happened to Sublime. "Dunno. He's not in the Danger Room no more. They ain't never said what they did with 'im." He perks a bit at Kay's revelation. "/Huh/. Y'got /better/ control now?" "Better than as a teenager, I'd wager." Lucien's voice has dropped to a low murmur, his mind now flexing out to very gently /tweak/ at that control, a small twinge like turning a valve -- just a notch, the air around Kay beginning rather noticeably to heat /up/. Watching very thoughtfully the interplay between this manual stimulation and the waning aftereffects of the drug. His lips press together, very thin, hand tightening in Kay's just a touch. "... curious. I should have looked into this when --" His head shakes, hand sliding down to simply rest fingertips against the backs of Kay's knuckles, holding the pyrokinetic's hand palm-up over his as a very small flame ignites over Kay's palm and then flickers out. A small shiver ripples through him before he drops his hand, looking to Micah with brows raised. "Terrible? Perhaps. Or just practical. Some things happen because they /should/ happen." "Hey, it's a terrible world." Kay says brightly, "But it sure is nice when things that should happen actually do--...!" He feels it; the tiny shifts in heat that rise up off his skin like a sudden thermal. His eyes widen, and though surprised he doesn't pull away or fight it - draws in an abrupt breath when the air ripples and finally combusts. And then hits its plateau and fades, and Kay is still grinning. That gritted fiery shape against the faint red burn on his palm. And shakes his head. "Not gonna be that easy, I guess." “Mmn.” Micah gives up his argument over 'shoulds', watching the fire play instead. “I'm gonna avoid the obvious jokes here an' just request no burnin' the house down 'fore we even move into it,” he says with a laugh. “Never is.”