ArchivedLogs:Neighborly Problem Solving

Neighborly Problem Solving
Dramatis Personae Alexandrine, Doug, Jackson	2013-02-07 '
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. 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. It's mid-afternoon by the time Jax makes his way back from class to the building. A little more tired for his time away, he skirts around to a back entrance, avoiding the sprinkling of reporters still lurking in vans outside, making his way in through the alley where the trash is disposed of and ducking up the stairs to his apartment. Inside, his glittery attire fades off to something more staid. Plain black jeans, plain grey sweater, his makeup dropping away to leave his face too-pale, too-shadowed beneath. He glances at the clock a bit frettily as he sets his portfolio bag down in the living room, slipping into the kitchen to start setting out the makings of dinner. Doug has also been at class, and finding reporters on your doorstep asking about a friend and neighbor isn't the best follow-up to a class. So, the blonde was a bit fretty himself as he stopped first on the second floor to chat with Alexandrine before heading up to his own apartment to change clothes. Now, the pair are on the third floor, Doug in soccer shorts and a blue sweatshirt that reads Westchester across the front in gold letters and a cake plate in his hands; Alex in jeans and a purple sweater, carrying a large container. "Those reporters were determined," the blonde says to Alexandrine as he pulls up in front of the door to 303. "They don't know his name, but I could tell by the description they gave who they were talking about." He lifts a fist, then, to bang against the wood of the door. BANGBANGBANGBANG. "Jax! You in there?" "Ah know they're there. Ah kinda don't wanna leave the front way, just in case Ah ended up in any of their shots. Be harder to claim Ah don't know the guy, when Ah'm coming from his building and they might have seen me with him." Alex puts in while they wait to see if the door will be answered. Jackson twitches at the banging on the door, frowning at it for a long moment before slipping out of the kitchen. Re-transformation happens in stages, a sparkling sheen of makeup adding colour to his face, clothing recreating itself into bright red jeans and a sweater black and dotted with rainbow stars, his sunglasses grabbed from the counter to put back on his face; his smile reappears last, sunshiney-bright by the time he opens the door. "Hi! Woah, Hi times two. Um. Come in?" He sounds a little uncertain about this, looking over the pair like maybe just eying them will provide explanation for their presence, his thoughts muted beneath a sheen of couple-days-since-sleep exhaustion that is not helped by his day yesterday. He steps back, waving them in with an added, "-- Shoes, please." "There you are!" Doug's face brightens happily when Jax swings the door open, and he swings the cake plate forward in presentation. His own thoughts are warm, but tinged with concern. "We brought food! That's what you do when reporters are hounding your friend, right?" He chuckles, and kicks his flip-flops off as he crosses the threshhold, flicking his gaze around the apartment. "Whoah. Nice place," he says, and turns back to motion at Alexandrine. "'Lex said we should bring you food, too. 'Cause she's Southern." His teasing tone and gaze land on Alex with a wink before sliding over to Jax. "You're Southern, too, right? That's a thing? Food for comfort?" Alexandrine smiles at the sight of Jackson, seeing him at least up and around if not perfectly healthy. "Hi." It's almost a little shy, as she slips off her ballet flats. "Who knew ya lived in my buildin' when we met?" She chuckles, offering the container of rich gumbo over. "Ah don't know what y'all eat, but.." Hey, she's trying. "You feelin' okay? Anything we can do to help?" "Southern Comfort is a thing," Jackson says with a brighter quirk of lips. "Oh, gosh, y'all --" He blushes as he takes the container of gumbo, and then starts to reach for the cake plate, too, eying both before gesturing Doug in towards the counter. "Thanks, um, ignore the big skulls on the wall I need to -- something." Because there are large pink and blue sugar skulls painted on one wall of his living room. They don't really fit the rest of the decor. "Oh, this smells," << strong >> "-- the twins'll adore it," is at least true and quite genuinely /cheerful/, even if it comes with a quiet unspoken addition that he won't be eating it /himself/. "I had no idea! I mean, maybe that's why you looked familiar? Small world, huh." The question gets a slight duck of his head, a glance over towards the windows. "I'm -- I mean, crazy day yesterday, huh?" "I've heard of Southern Comfort," Doug quips, moving to the counter to set down the plate gently. "Although, very rarely in relation to food and eating." He grins, and leans against the counter, watching Jackson as he examines the container of gumbo. "It might be a little cooked, for Shane," he says, and turns to examine the skulls. "Who did those?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Seems an odd place to be tagged." There's a small smile at the question from Alexandrine and Jackson's response. /He/ knew, even if he didn't know when they'd met. Ha ha. When Jackson glances at the window, Doug trails in that direction, peering down at the street below. "Must have been really wild, if the reporters are following you back here," he says with a grimace. "What happened that they're camped out here?" Alexandrine chuckles. "Ah can make you somethin' else, if you'd prefer. Vegetarian? Vegan, maybe?" Her mother would have a heart attack even hearing those words come out of the redhead's mouth. "It could be, or maybe Doug is just that descriptive." She grins slightly sidelong at Doug. "Ya could say that, about yesterday. How are you doin'?" Hands slide into her back pockets, head tipping a little to the side. "All the excitement bein' so tirin' and all." << Ah didn't know if Doug knows about you... so um, Ah didn't mention you saving the dickhead mayor.>> Jackson blushes. "Vegan," he admits, "but the twins are pretty hardcore carnivores. Spence just eats whatever I eat. Vegan stuff's easy to keep kosher, at least. -- Shelby put 'em there. Her own work, I think. Looks nice. Just the colors're --" He shrugs. << He knows, >> Jax affirms, though this comes with a current of gratitude anyway for the care in not potentially outing him. << At least some of what I can do. >> "Can I get y'all somethin'? Coffee? Tea? Cookies? I'm alright. Just kinda threw m'self into class to not think about it. How've you been, that crowd was -- crowdy. Um -- You catch the mayor's speech yesterday, Doug?" "I'm good," Doug says with a bob of his head, watching the reporters mill around their vans with coffee cups and non-reports back to their individual stations. "But thanks. Lex brought me etoufee and cookies last night, so I'm stuffed with Creole goodness." He grins, turning away from the window. "Shelby's good," he notes, glancing at the skulls again. "Good to see her art isn't primarily lifted from reference books." He grimaces, and shakes his head. "I watched it on YouTube last night," he confesses. "There was a guy who got it all on his phone and posted it." He wrinkles his nose. "That was you that saved the mayor?" he asks Jackson, then, his brain filling in gaps quickly. "That's why we're suddenly in the middle of the Media Campout." See? He's smart! Alexandrine grins. "Ah can do vegan, next time. An' work up some carnivore-y goodness, in a seperate container. Talented like that. Oh, and um.. the king cake isn't totally legit. No plastic baby in it." She looks almost apologetic about it. << Ah wasn't going to out anyone... except myself. Y'all know, but Ah never actually verbally told anyone until Doug last night. >> She explains, a hint of a shrug in expression, forgetting Doug might see and realize she's talking non-verbally. "Ah'm fine, thank you." She glances at Doug as he puts it altogether, a slight tension tightening her shoulders. "Those things always kinda freaked me out a little," Jax admits, nose crinkling slightly. "Like those little plastuc fetuses the protesters have outside Planned Parenthood." << He seems cool, at least, >> he adds warmly, as he leans back against the counter. His head bobs in a quick nod, purple hair shifting to fall down over his sunglasses. "Yeeeah, that was me. Don't think I made /anyone/ happy pulling that stunt. People on my side think I'm some kinda traitor and people not think I staged the whole thing to /look/ like the good guy." Doug makes a noise -- a rude noise. "People are shitty, no matter the politics involved," he says. "There was nothing to be gained by either motivation, but you'll never convince them of that." He flops into a chair as if he were a regular visitor to the place, and regards the skulls for a moment. "But you saved a life -- that's something that can't be overlooked. Was it maybe the wrong life to save?" He lifts a hand, bobbling it in the air. "Only time will tell. But, your actions kept a lot of shit from getting worse, from what I could make out. A mutant/human riot would have been a lot worse for everyone." He grins wickedly. "You want me to mess with the reporters' computer systems? Betsy can crack that tin-can-and-string shit in about four seconds." "Eww." Alex says about the plastic baby comparison. "Ah never thought of it like that. Never gonna look at a king cake the same way again." << He's very nice. He didn't mind me being a telepath at all, apparently ne knows a few. Heh. >> There's an uncharacteristic frown on Alex's face, as she looks at Jackson. "Ah don't think you're a traitor, or that you made it some set-up. Then again, Ah kinda know what was behind the guy's reasonin' who took the shot. You jus'... you reacted to save someone. Even if he is an ass." Just her opinion, of course. She glances at Doug, cheeks going crimson. She sort of left a lot of gaps in story telling. Sorry, Doug. She leans up against the wall. "Can your computer see what images are out there, so far? Ah.. Ah just don't want my momma pokin' around and seeing me." "Sure didn't want no riot there," Jackson agrees, scuffing fingers through his hair. "Mess with -- oh, gosh." His nose crinkles up, his brow furrowing deeper. "I just sorta reacted," he's agreeing with Alexandrine. "M'sorry the cops came down I -- woulda stopped it with him, too, if I'd had time." He seems genuinely regretful about this. "-- Oh, goodness, my ma was callin' me all in a tizzy half the evening last night. Hopefully you stayed outta the -- sorry for all that." As though the ordeal was his fault. "I don't really want nothin' but for them to go away 'fore my kids get back from school this weekend. /Last/ thing /they/ need is more heckling. They get enough of /that/ just /living/." Doug nods, and wrinkles his nose. "Hang on," he says, standing up and moving towards the door. "I'll be right back," he says cheerily, swinging the door closed behind him. Then he's gone...who knows where. But he left hsi flip-flops behind, so he'll probably be back. Alexandrine shakes her head. "Ya can't be everywhere at once. Ah wasn't all that deep connected so.. it was jus' like.. he went out." She shrugs, blue eyes darting away from Jax. "Pssht. Ain't your fault the media are a buncha vultures. Ah can't help if it Ah was in the wrong place at the wrong time." She turns back to Jax, her expression near perfectly angelic. "Ah just went to hear the speech, Ah had nothin' to do with anything." She sounds so terribly convincing.. until she laughs. "An' that will be my story, an' Ah'll stick to it." She pushes away from the wall to peek out the windows. "Doug can mess with their systems.. Ah can make them not wanna be here, if you want. Ah'd have to do it one at a time, though." "I wouldn't want to put you out or nothin'," Jackson demures, though internally he's thinking how grateful he'd be for them to all go /away/. "Hive just sort of SHOVED them away this morning but that's sorta -- just gave me a window. Brute forcey. He ain't much for finesse. Also, he's cranky." Jackson grins, here, "-- He's the most New Yorky non-native I know. Was the speech worth it? I kinda stopped paying attention 'roundabout when Hive said /gun/. Read it after, though. Was a good speech. Inspiring, if I was looking for a reason to hate on some folks." "Put me out? Oh, you are a southern boy." Alex drawls, head turning to regard Jax with a smile. "Ah've noticed Hive an' Ah.. operate very differently. Ah don't know exactly what extent his powers go to or nothin'... but Ah can make them feel uncomfortable, and make it feel worse an' worse. It's a lot more subtle, an' less likely to send up red flags that would bring them back after they got outside my reach, ya know?" She leans a shoulder against the wall by a window. "Ah haven't watched it. My attention was on the gun, an' tryin' to figure out how to keep y'all from bein' in danger. Ah didn't do so hot, on the second part." Blue eyes trail back to look out the window. "Sort of outed myself to Ezekiel, too. Don't know if he'll wanna go dancin', now." She's silent for a bit. "Jax, we're from the south. We both know people don't need a reason to hate, they just use 'em for justification." "Least in the South they're usually more up front about it," Jackson answers, and though he's smiling small and easy it's not really reflected in the chaotic mix of stress and worry -- for his family, for his friends, for himself -- percolating beneath the surface. "I think it worked out alright. I mean. OK. Not alright but it coulda been so much /worse/. A situation like that, things coulda turned way more bloody real quickly." He pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, wiggling at one lip ring. "Guess we'll just hafta see about Ezekiel. Yesterday was enough t'freak out most anyone I think." There's a light knock at the door, then, before it swings back open and Doug comes in with Betsy tucked under his arm. "Okay," he says. "Let's see how inconvenient I can make this story, and get rid of them." He pauses as he takes in the scene, and his brow twitches. "There was a reporter in the /elevator/, for Christ's sake. I don't even know how he got in the building, but the /Daily Bugle/ is first on my list. Jameson can suck a tit." The blonde reclaims his seat, and flips his laptop open. "He passed me over for an internship a couple years ago. This will be sweet." Alexandrine snorts. "See, down home? Ah'd be married an' be the perfect little Stepford...but Ah can't be, because Ah'm me. Momma.. she doesn't know. No one does, because Ah know how many of them /hate/ anyone different." There's a crack in that perfect, southern belle demure calm, a burst of passion in her voice about the hate. "Hope you didn't mind me makin' up that you're a diabetic, to try an' get us all out of there. But it was the most feasible tale Ah could come up with, and if your powers are anythin' like mine... well, it wasn't too far off." That calm is back, the control in place as she looks at Doug coming in with his laptop. "Ezekiel is a mutant. Ah just don't know if he's comfortable enough to be okay with that, an' me. Us, Ah guess." There's a hint of laughter. "If Momma knew who Ah was keepin' company with, she would have palpitations. "You kidding me, I was so glad for the help getting out of there. Wasn't far off at all. Came back home and railed three meals' worth'a -- meal. Man. My head was fit to explode." Jackson pulls himself up to sit on the counter, brightly socked feet swinging down against a stool. "My ma knows and she's cool -- in that she's supportive but she still /frets/ like nobody's business. Southern, I guess. Would you /want/ to be married and be the perfect little wife?" Jax glances back towards the door as it opens, ears tinging slightly pink at Doug's words. "The Bugle's been pretty vicious today. Uh. S'this some kinda revenge thing because I'm getting enough heat already." Plus that's just not cool, he is not adding out loud, despite his silent inner twinge of discomfort. "Jax, my friend," Doug drawls, picking up his computer and moving to the counter, where he sets it down and claims the sock-besieged stool. "When I get done with this, no one is even going to remember who or where you are." He cracks his knuckles, then, and his fingers begin to fly across the keyboard. For the telepath, this means probably a weird buzzy tingle as he makes contact with Betsy. "First of all, I'm shutting down the Bugle offices for the day. As far as their systems are concerned, there's been an electrical fire in the presses that requires a full system check and reboot." He grins up at Jax. "So, they won't even be able to put out a paper for at least twenty-four hours, because Betsy's already convinced their computer that such checks are /not/ happening." He chuckles, and his fingers begin clacking away, the mental buzz increasing as more systems come online and begin talking to him via Betsy. "I'm also moving you," he informs Jax as he types. "Now, according to /everything/ accessed from outside the NYPD internal systems will return that you live in Long Island Sound, in a modest little Cape Cod that you bought on a thirty-year mortgage." His expression grows more intent, and he types faster. "Now, I just have to get Betsy to eliminate all the images of you and Lex that she can find that occurred in the last two days." He grimaces. "I, uh, can't eliminate the stuff the news has already shown, though. That's probably already on tape." "Well, Ah didn't much ask if it was okay. Ah'd talked to the cop before, we were kinda friendly. Both of them. So Ah figured Ah'd work the friendly acquaintance angle, ya know? Jus' glad it worked." Alex shrugs. "My momma.. she'd be horrified. She has social standin', and all. What would it do to her if it got out, sort of thing." There's a roll of blue eyes. "Married? Not anytime soon, but a couple of dates would be nice." There's a snicker. "Ah am /so/ hanging out with the wrong cute guys for that, though. But no, it's one of the reasons Ah came here. Ah didn't want Momma to keep shovin' the guys she considers proper at me." When that buzzy kicks in, Alex is distracted again, and Jax may catch a glimpse of a familiar, slightly feral face. Certainly not proper guy material for a southern belle, so why would she be thinking of him? "Oh, and if you did put in that good word for me, thanks. Job is mine, Ah guess, if Ah want it." She shifts over to peer over Doug's shoulder. "Wait, /stop/ don't do that!" Jackson is looking more serious now, straightening with a slight grimace on his face and more than slight worry in his mind. "I mean, okay, in the first place I don't think that's how memory /works/, I'm pretty sure even if you delete the records those people standing outside aren't /computers/, they, um, y'know, /remember/ stuff, this isn't the Net." Like the terrible movie. "Plus like. Messing with my life sounds kind of dire, and messing with the news /also/ sound kind of -- it's not like they --" He scrubs knuckles against his cheek, falling into a silence that isn't echoed by his somewhat disgruntled internal stream of frustration at not actually being able to articulate words well. "-- You'd met Eric before?" he settles on, and /this/ is definitely disgruntled as well. Angry, even, in a way drastically unlike most of the gentle Southerner's usual patterns. "-- And Logan." This draws a smile, at least. "Oh, hey, m'glad you got it." Doug pauses, fingers on the keys, and he frowns at Jackson in honest confusion. "What /did/ you want me to do, then?" he asks. "I'm not a mutant with showy mind powers or the ability to send people across the globe. I have to do it /my/ way." Alex stills, looking at Jax. "Ah have. He gave me directions.. Did he.. " << Did he really do what Hive said? Ah.. he hit on me, but if he's skeevy.. >> She blushes hotly at mention of Logan. " Interesting meet up, with that one. In a bar, the /first/ time Ah go to one alone... and well.." She shrugs, then pokes Doug in the shoulder. "Ah'm standin' right here, ya know!" As if she's offended. She's so not, but she can poke and tease to try and lighten the mood, right? "I didn't want you to do anything!" Jackson protests, just as confused. "I mean, saying it'd be nice if a problem went away doesn't mean I want anyone to go around fixing -- I mean, 'specially not in no illegal ways." << This is why my school taught mutant /ethics/ courses, >> he's internally fretting. Externally, just relaxing back against the counter. "Sometimes things kinda suck," he says with a quick lopsided smile. "It blows over. Life moves on." << He did, >> comes sharper and a little angrier, internally, though just as gentle-relaxed on the outside. Inside, an anger-tinged image of Eric leering at Shane the next morning. Also, his balls being cut off. Maybe that has a trace of satisfaction to it. "S'cool you'll be working there!" he says, more cheerfully. "I teach next trimester." "You said you wanted them gone by the time the kids come home!" Doug protests, his voice actually rising. "How was that going to happen?" He wrinkles his nose, and pushes to his feet. "I'm not a fancy mutant with a lot of experience in dealing with this kind of shit, you know," he says. "What I /am/ is a damned good hacker who can do something to keep the reporters off my friend's back. But if you'd rather not have the help..." He picks up his laptop, and tucks it under his arm. "I've got homework to do," he says, a flush coming into his ears, and he begins moving towards the door. Poor Alexandrine. She seems to have been forgotten, poke and all, in Doug's sudden rush of embarrassed discomfort. "Ah can still make them go away, right?" Alex asks, a slight pout as if she'll be heart broken if Jax says no. There's a wrinkle of her nose at the leering, before the redhead goes pale, blue eyes wide. << Wait... you.. .didyoureally?! >> It's a silent rush, because she's in a little shock. She's frantically trying to yank that control back, biting on the inner edge of her bottom lip. "What do you teach? Ah um.. Logan didn't tell me who all teaches what." She turns, trying to catch Doug's shirt. "Doug.. that's not what he's sayin'. Ah'm sure the fact ya wanna help is appreciated, but he's thinkin' bigger picture, maybe. People already saw, an' what if someone needs to find him for a legit reason? And people might lose wages if you shut things down, an' no one can afford that right now..." She's trying to help, anyhow. << They grew back, >> Jax is protesting, though there's a little tinge of regret for this, paternal protectiveness hard to die down. "Hey, I didn't mean that you -- I wasn't trying to --" He scrubs his knuckles up beneath his sunglasses, slumping a little heavily against the counter. "I just. Man, I /also/ want a million dollars, don't mean I want you hacking no banks to give it to me, y'know? Plus there was like a million witnesses, they ain't gonna /forget/ -- if everything suddenly goes wonky it'll just --" But he stops, then, frowning at himself as he offers these rationalizations; in the end, in lieu of more explanation for why he doesn't consider it a good idea he just says: "It ain't right nohow. I may not /like/ them but freedom of speech is kinda a biggie." His heels thump back against the stool, his smile to Alexandrine grateful. "Even if you could just make 'em not notice so much that'd be swell, I gotta get out of here soon enough to pick up my youngest. Um. I teach art. One module a year. S'fun." "I still have homework, Doug says in a dull voice as he pushes his feet into his flip flops. "But, for the record, I wasn't doing anything strictly illegal or that would cost people their livelihoods. I don't roll like that." He lifts a hand at the pair at the counter, offering a tight line of a smile. "I'll see you around." There's an almost-slam of the door that he catches lightly before it can, but then he's /gone/. His thoughts in the hallway are a jumble of a mess of things, most of it how he's fucked stuff up without even trying. Or maybe by trying too hard. Alexandrine sighs as Doug storms out. "He's too hard on himself." She says in a hushed tone, a hand lifting to rub the back of her neck. "Ah can go up an' try to talk to him later, if you want." She turns to look at Jax again, blue eyes tired suddenly. "Ah can make them decide hangin' out around here isn't the best idea." She rolls her shoulders. "They grew back? Still, Ah think Ah'll pass on askin' him out for coffee, ya know? Not if he's skeevy." She takes Doug's vacated stool. "Why are all the /nice/ guys Ah meet..." She stops. "Sorry, it might come out wrong, if Ah finish that thought. An' not /all/ of them have been. " There may be a flash of Logan's face again. "Ah should head down an' get myself some cookies an' get to work. They should be gone soon." "I didn't mean to --" Jackson is starting, continuing after the not-quite-slam of door. "-- upset you. I rally didn't. I just -- you know. It seems like this'll blow over in a couple days /anyhow/. I can lay low." He blushes at Alexandrine, offering her a small smile. "Aw, thanks, honey-honey. Only if t'ain't gonna make you too tired or nothing. You do hugs?" He's sliding off his stool to offer one. Maybe with a bit /wider/ of a smile at the thought of Logan. Theeeere's a guy who could probably use some more Nice People in his life. "He'll be all right. He just really wanted to help, an' he doesn't understand why you wouldn't want the full extent of hackerdom to work for you." Alexandrine offers a smile for Jax. "Ah don't have anything else to do this afternoon. It'll be good practice. Despite yesterday, Ah don't usually go around usin' what Ah got like that. " There's that flash of Logan again, because..well, she had, there. "Hugs?" She asks. "Ah thought New Yorkers didn't hug." She gives a grin, leaning into that hug. "Ya... there's no evil stories about Logan, are there?" She shouldn't have asked, because now she's blushing bright red. Damn redheaded curse. "Evil stories? I'm a /good/ boy, I don't tell," Jackson is saying. With a wickedly bright grin. He hugs Alexandrine quick and tight. "New Yorkers might not hug. I'm a Georgia boy, though, through and through. Thanks for the gumbo. And --" He waves a hand towards the window and the reporters outside. "S'two days now you've been a lifesaver." "Pshht. What are friends for, sunshine?" She asks, sliding off the stool to her feet. "An' ya'd tell me if he was skeevy like Eric, right? Ah.. jus' he's been really nice and..." << Oh gawd, Ah am so gonna shut up now. >> Blue eyes roll, the redhead ducking her head to let hair somewhat hide her face. "Anyhow, Ah'll remember you're vegan from now on, promise. " She moves to slide on her ballet flats. "Ah better get crackin', if Ah wanna get done before you have to pick up the young'un." "Naw, gruff, maybe, but I ain't read no skeeve offa him." Jackson smiles warmly, warmer still at Alexandrine's words. "Next time I'll bring /you/ down somethin'! What apartment's yours?" "Ah'm just one floor down. 215." She says, bending to tug one flat onto her heel better, "But ya don't need to feed me. Ya got teenage twins, an' Ah know how boys eat." Alex manages that smile, tugging hair back. "Ah'll see ya around, though? Ya need anythin', don't hesitate to come down an' ask. An' don't forget, we need to go dancin'!" "Dancing. I couldn't possibly forget." Jackson's fingers curl in a cheerful wave, his smile just as bright, and then he's slipping back off to the kitchen to throw together some dinner before it is time to pick up Spencer.