ArchivedLogs:Missing
| Missing | |
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| Dramatis Personae | 2013-05-05 ' |
| Location
<NYC> 303 {Holland} - Village Lofts - East Village | |
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late bright coloured sealife has made its way into being painted on the wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. After the twins have been gone some time, Eric starts to get a little bit concerned. He glances towards the door, stands and paces a little bit around the room. "I don't know what the fuck is taking them so long," he mutters, glancing back at the door. He frowns at it, eyes narrowing. Stupid door. He sighs and shakes his head, looking up at Shelby. "They probably fucked off to go swim or something." he says, crossing his arms. "We got ditched, Shelbs." Shelby has made good use of the time by stealing Shane's Nook. She's been scrolling through its files, not /quite/ bored but killing time. When Eric rises and begins his restless prowl, she glances up over the top of the gadget and hikes her eyebrows up at him. Her grin is not far behind. "You say that like you never got stood up before. Calm down, cowboy. Bet they're scarfing down some beef jerky so they don't have to share." Her eyes flick up and down. "S'not a bad idea." "Maybe Sebastian got distracted by a wild bookstore." Eric turns and stuffs his phone into his pocket. "It's unusual." he says, but a smirk plays about his lips. His hands rise and fall, gesturing over his chest. "I mean - would you stand up this?" he asks, doing his best impression of Vanna White. His smile widens a little bit, and he takes a (slightly deep) breath. He shrugs his shoulders. "Their loss." "If Bastian and books are involved? Dude didn't even come running when I said naked. /Or/ come cuddle on the couch until I like, practically begged." Okay, so she held his hand but that's almost like begging. Shelby peeps down at the Nook for a moment--taptaptap--then sets it aside to do proper service to Eric's pose. She certainly /looks/ interested. "Guys do the inhale thing too, huh? Even without tits. Didn't know that." "Inhale thing?" Eric looks briefly confused, giving Shelby a look of puzzlement. "Oh, holding your gut in? Yeah, they do, but I'm not doin' it." Demonstratively, he takes a few deep breaths, in and out. Sure enough, his chest rises and falls, but his overall muscle-ness doesn't change. "Not enough evidence?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I could take off my shirt if you need more." "/Would/ you?" It sounds like Shelby is teasing but with her, one never knows. She's clambered up onto her knees on the couch and strikes her own pose, complete with deep inhalation. The shoulders back posture and held breath does add a little to the chest region. A little. There's very little to /add/ to, however, in spite of her recent protestations about gaining weight. Before she turns purple, the breath is let out with a gasp and she flops against the cushions. Spent. "D'you think you /could/ get a gut?" she asks, eyes on the flat belly area hidden by his shirt. "Or are you gonna be hot for like, forever?" Eric watches Shelby pose, and his eyes flicker appreciatively over her as he stands. There is a tiny widening of his smile when her air bursts and she flops back down on the couch. In turn, his fingertips play with the bottom of his shirt, lifting it just enough to expose a tiny line of tan flesh, as his lips twist into a wide smirk. "Oh, sure. I mean, I've been in pretty good shape since high school, but if I don't exercise regularly, I can feel myself gettin' in worse shape even after just a couple of days, just like anyone else." Oh, hello, skin. Shelby's gaze goes magnet-like to that exposure. She's so /easy/. Like Pavlov's dog without the conditioning! "Me, I don't exercise at all and I just stay sexy," she boasts (jokes), while casting a hand down her relatively curveless side. "Guess some people have all the luck, huh?" She pauses for a beat and then flicks her fingers at Eric. Or, rather, at that hem he's toying with. "C'mon, don't tease." Eric's smile widens, and he smirks at Shelby. "You like what you see?" he asks, slowly pulling his shirt up. His stomach is revealed, one section of six-pack at a time, before his shirt hides his smirking face from sight. Only for a moment, though, before he is shaking his shirt out at his side and rolling his shoulders back - to stretch, or to show off? Who knows. As he strips, his eyes track carefully over Shelby's face, watching. Wait, wait, wait! Shelby's not ready yet! Terrible creature that she is, she digs her heels into the couch and arches up to reach into her rear pocket. From there, she produces a crumpled wad of oh my god yes, those are dollar bills. "Okay go!" she instructs, dropping the wad into her lap and plucking one bill free for smoothing against her thigh. Her grin is pure comedy but the eyes, slightly more interested as she shapes the dollar into a lengthwise fold. "...Shane better hope he didn't spend everything at the store. C'mon, keep it goin'!" Eric smirks and he shakes his head. "Nuh-uh. This isn't a strip club. You're allowed to touch." he says, and there is a distinctive purr in his voice. He raises one finger and beckons with it. "You want to see more, you're gonna hav'ta come here and take it off for yourself." Challenge accepted! Shelby stands--careless with her money, the unfolded and crumpled bills tumbling to couch and ground--and ambles on over. "Y'know," she muses as she gets within range to reach out and hook her fingers through Eric's beltloops, "this is like...the best way to kill time. Seriously." Deep teenage thoughts. Accompanied with the almost dainty act of folding that dollar bill over the band of his pants. Eric smirks as Shelby comes closer to him, and his hips press forward into her hands without any objection. He leans down, breath ghosting over the edge of her ear, and warm cheek pressing to hers. "I can think of a better way to kill some time, since our boys ditched us." he rumbles. The strip show is interrupted by the excited thump of Obie's paws -- heading not for the front door but for Spencer's bedroom. Spencer doesn't really /bother/ with front doors, hopping himself in from outside to drop his backpack, hurtle out into the living room with an excited chirrup of: "Shaaaaane, Baaaaastian, I --" Stop pause blink but he seems to take this scene remarkably in /stride/, stooping to scoop a crumpled handful of bills off the floor. "Did you drop this is this yours is this /his/?" He's offering the crumpled bills to Shelby and Eric both, first on one outstretched hand and then, in cheerful mimicry, reaching for Eric's jeans. Because that is where bills go, apparently? Jackson, on the other hand, /does/ use the front door. He's slower about his entry than Spencer, for this reason, if only by a few seconds, unlocking the door to head back inside and "Wo-o-oah. Uh. Woah. Hi?" Blinkblinkblink. He toes off his shoes, lining them neatly by the door, and as he wanders in further a paper bag rustles against his leg, dangling from one hand. "Um. What's -- can y'all not -- Spence don't /do/ that, just give the bills to Shelby -- where'd the boys go?" Helloooo, nurse! Shelby is all set to recrush that bill by melting in against Eric when a very young, very high-pitched voice startles the teenager. Guess who has never had to deal with younger siblings before? This gal! With a squeak and an immediate stain of crimson in her cheeks, she twists away from the shirtless cop. "Hi Spence!" She sounds far, far too cheerful as she flings herself between child and man. Money! She'll take that, oh no, thank you! Aaaaaa! By the time Jackson appears, she is...trying to shove the bills back into her pockets. And look as if she hadn't just been naughty with Eric in the Holland living room. Cough. "...um. They. Went to get coffee? And chocolate. And stuff." Eric either knows how to handle younger children, or he just doesn't care about his semi-nudity. "Heya, Spence!" he says, reaching down to pick up Spence underneath the arms and spin him around in a circle. The muscles in his back are clearly defined, flexing as they lift the teenager around and spin him, flashing his bare back to Shelby and Jax both. "How are you doin', champ?" he asks, placing him gently back down on the floor and squatting down to ruffle his hair. "That's Shelby's money. I'm sure she'll be awful happy if you give it back to her." he says, at eye level with the youngest of the Hollands. "Heya, Jax." he says, giving him a little wave. Jax's eyes are, admittedly, fixed on Eric through this spinning, but he drops his gaze with a faint flush of pink in his cheeks as Eric looks at him. "Hey," he says, quiet, "I -- cool. I brought dinner. For -- everyone. Wasn't -- wasn't really feeling like cooking today," he admits this like it's a personal failing, "though there's some raspberry brownies in the kitchen." Spencer is eying Shelby /suspiciously/ for her squeak and her blush but Eric's spinning makes him laugh and -- attempt to bite the cop on the shoulder. He miiight be spending too much time with his siblings. Biting = fun. "Here," he thrusts the crumpled bills at Shelby when he is back on the ground, "Are you staying for /dinner/ it's Mexican can I have brownies /first/?" "You can have /one/ brownie first," Jackson says with a shrug, heading in to the kitchen to set the bag down on the counter and start removing containers. "They be back soon? I got about a metric ton of tacos for them -- well, everyone." But let's face it mostly the twins they are like living garbage disposals when it comes to meat. He's pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to send texts. Thank /God/ for Eric. He is giving Shelby time to retreat to the couch like la la la, nothing to see here! There is no further squeaking and her grin is a lot less frantic by the time Spencer is returned to earth and shoves money at her. "Thanks, little dude. I am /totally/ staying for dinner. Your dad said I could and everything." Bills are swapped out for her phone, which is likewise slid open--though before she begins texting, she does frown at the time. "...huh. They said they'd be back pretty quick but it's been like...an hour and a half?" The teen looks up at Eric for confirmation. "Yeah. It's been longer than I thought." Eric says, and there is a slight note of concern in his voice. "I figured maybe they got delayed by finding some wild books. Maybe, though, they decided to go for a swim, since they're not answerin' their phones." He looks up at Jax and gives a little shrug of his shoulders, picking his shirt off the ground and straightening up to tug it back over his head. "Did they say they was going for a swim?" Jackson frowns, setting his phone down on the counter once he's done texting and going to retrieve plates from the cupboard. "I could go --" Spencer starts to offer brightly, but is cut off by a /very/ quick: "NO, honey-honey, that's, um, you shouldn't -- why don't you come here and have some dinner?" Jax retrieves silverware, too. "I mean, after everything that's -- I'd think they'd at least --" He exhales once, sharp and heavy. "C'mon. There's mmm. About ten /pounds/ of tacos and I got you a burrito Spence and --" He sets the dishes out on the /table/. For actual sitting at! "-- Wait, uh, y'all didn't go for coffee /with/ them?" "Nah, but..." Shelby pauses to shoot Spencer a look that is one part concerned, two parts bemused. Then she is up, wandering kitchenwards on a tardy quest to help with dinner stuff. She arrives two seconds too late to do anything about the silverware. First there is feigned guilt for that, then there is /genuine/ guilt when Jax asks what he does. "Um. They were...I mean, Shane was kinda upset, y'know? He told us what happened with Walters and he said he wanted beans and it was kinda...twin time. Right?" Again she looks to Eric for confirmation here as she drops into one of the chairs at the table. Back her up, dude! Eric nods and shakes his head once. "I want that teacher's information." he says, and his voice goes hard. It is, for once, not hard to see him as a police officer with baton in hand and ordering someone to get /down/ on the ground. His jaw is set firmly, too. "Name, address, anything you can tell me will be of help." Jackson's smile drops off his face in an instant at the mention of Jennifer, his jaw tightening. He is silent as he sets the food out -- the pile of foil-wrapped tacos is Very Large, fish and chicken mixed and not really marked which is which -- and eventually shakes his head. "You want -- what?" The look he gives Eric is a little bemused. "I mean, um, is being a horrible teacher a crime?" He folds the empty paper bag neatly once all the food is on the table, and goes to put it in a bin with other recyclables. "... but, yeah." His voices is quieter. "He was -- he's been real upset. She kinda done a number on him." Spencer has claimed a brownie and is traipsing over to the table to clamber up into a chair. "I don't know why," he says with a frown, "he /is/ a animal." "I don't think she --" Jax's brow creases. "It's like with freak," he says to Spencer. "Or queer. When some people say it they don't mean it like your /friend/." "Maybe she's like, more biceps than brains," Shelby suggests. She is busily transferring tacos from the pile to her plate. One, two, three...and okay, yeah, sure, why not a fourth! The girl must have a hollow leg. "I mean, like, she totally fucked up with me too but I guess she /wanted/ to help. She's just shit at it." Wrappers rustle as she dives in. When she comes up for air several bites later, she looks at Eric with some interest. "You gonna beat her up?" "No." Eric says, glancing at Shelby and looking very innocent, despite the fire in his eyes. "I'm not going to go near her. That would be unprofessional and unbefitting. And she hasn't committed a crime." It does not sound like he thinks it matters. Jax scrubs a hand against his cheek. "Anyone want a drink? S'water and juice and -- maybe some blackberry Izze." Which is as close to soda as his house gets. He's already getting a water for Spencer. And one for himself. He doesn't sit, just meanders back to look at his phone. "How long they been gone?" This time he isn't texting, he's actually dialing. Eric earns himself a snort of laughter. Just a snort, because Shelby's still chowing down. Her head moves in a negative to the offer of a drink. By the time Jax goes for his phone again, she's two tacos down. /Someone/ was hungry. "Umm," she thinks aloud, licking her lips, "‘bout an hour and a half. They not answering?" Eric heads into the kitchen and takes a taco and a napkin, taking a warm bite from it and sighing. "Thanks. It's been... a while. Damn. I should have gone with them." he murmurs this last bit to himself, shaking his head once. "Damn." "... no," Jackson sounds quiet and thoughtful more than concerned, hanging up and then dialing the /other/ twin. "Are, um. I mean he was upset did he seem like he was -- /upset/-upset? Like, um --" He glances at Spencer quickly and then at the others. "-- like. Maybe. Ocean kind of upset?" Suddenly the tacos don't seem quite as appetizing. Or maybe Shelby is full. She prods at the two remaining on her plate, gaze flicking from one adult face to the other. "Nah. Not...not like that. I mean, Shane was gonna bring me some chocolate and B was..." She trails off and bites down on her lower lip, frowning down at her plate. "Not that upset, I don't think. More... resigned." Eric scratches at his head and leans against the counter. "Maybe I should go do something useful. Sitting around here..." he trails off, frowning. His arms cross over his chest and he shakes his head. "Mm." Jax lowers his phone slowly. He's frowning at the screen, but not typing anything anymore. His finger taps against its side. "... ain't nobody heard from Peter yet, hm?" It's distant and a little quiet, his eyes searching the ceiling. "Peter helped me build a TARDIS," Spencer tells them. "Can we draw one? On the roof? Can you /tattoo/ me one?" "Not -- not right now, Spence," Jax leans against the counter, elbows propped on it. "-- Something useful? What do you think they -- where do you think they --" The frown he gives Eric is worried. Something useful. Shelby can maybe do that. She reaches for her phone, because that's worked /so well/ for Jax. Her fingers fly over the keys. "Nah, s'okay, Jax. How about we do the tattoo first, huh Spence? I mean, I promised I'd do that /forever/ ago. C'mon, we can go raid your dad's art supplies. You pick the colors," she says as she squints down at the screen. Standing at the same time.
"Yell if you hear anything, huh?" Shelby instructs the grown-ups, giving them a last pale look before reaching out to tug Spencer down from his chair and lead him off elsewhere. Eric shakes his head. "No. Maybe I should go to the station, see if I can dig something up. Or maybe I'll just... go deal with that so-called teacher." He cracks his knuckles, once - perhaps this is not related. Perhaps it is. He gives Jax a soft smile, though it does not enter his eyes. "They're probably alright." Not the best reassurance in the world. Spencer grabs his burrito as he goes. "I'm getting a /tattoo/," he tells Jackson, and this sounds proud as he looks at Jax's wealth of them. Jackson's smile is a tight thin line. "Yeah -- yeah. That's -- that's awesome, Spence, I -- m'sure it'll be --" He trails off, leaning more heavily against the counter. His eye meets Eric's for a long silent moment. "Let -- me know what you find." His head dips, looking back to his phone. "And take some tacos with you." Eric nods, once, and the look he gives the other man is a long one. Suddenly, without warning, he rounds around the corner and squeezes Jax in a tight, muscled embrace. His hands run gently over Jax's back and he holds the artist in his arms for several moments before he releases and turns to head through the front door. Jackson freezes, at this, stiffening at first. He is rather excessively warm to the touch, uncomfortable heat leaking from him at the hug. He does return it, though, after a delay, arms lifting to squeeze Eric back. He watches the cop leave, and then, with a tightening of his jaw, turns back to his phone. Texttexttext.
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