ArchivedLogs:Next Week

Next Week
Dramatis Personae Micah, Flicker
In Absentia	21 April 2015 '
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. The day has been a touch chilly again, though clear and sunny and full of returning birdsong. As such, the sunroom is a lovely place to lounge as the last hours of light pour through the many windows, warming the room with brightness to match the scent of fresh herbs. Micah /might/ be helping that scent thing out, seeing as he has been distracted from his original intention of sitting with his e-reader and cup of tea to go pinching off basil buds. He is dressed typical-evening for him: mussed hair, T-shirt (black xkcd 'Stand Back I'm Going to Try Science!'...actually much better looking than the original bleach-stained one that went up in the Lofts bombing), faded-patchy blue jeans, and socks with little white bunnies frolicking on them. He's humming something a little too soft to make out as he tends the plants. Flicker isn't really lounging. He's cutting through the sunroom on his way back outside from somewhere in the upper stories of the house. Barefoot. Backpack over one shoulder. Xavier's hoodie over a button-down, khakis, wearing his older arm today. He has his phone in hand, brows furrowed as he looks down at it. The frown clears with his small glance up. Small accompanying smile. "-- Oh-hey. Howsit?" The sound of bare feet padding across the floor is enough for Micah to turn and regard Flicker's entrance with a smile of his own. “Hey, hon. That was...quite the look y'was givin' your phone there. S'it bein' rude at you?” He drops the most recently-pulled basil bud into the pile he's been forming to go out in the compost. “I'm okay. Enjoyin' the sunlight.” His eyes narrow faintly as if searching his brain for some bit of information. “Was I s'posed t'come talk at you 'bout somethin'? I feel like maybe I was s'posed to...” "Oh -- I don't know. My phone is usually really polite. I just think maybe I forgot to put something in my calendar --" Flicker's head shakes quickly. "It's insisting I don't have a shift tonight though." But he looks kind of unconvinced. "Were you? Maybe -- maybe." His weight shifts restlessly from one foot to the other. "Was it Game Night? Because we're not having it tonight, Dusk's kind of swamped and I haven't been -- up for. Organizing. Anything." He looks apologetic, at this. “No, I just been havin' that kinda feelin', too. Y'could text somebody t'check if that's the thing y'think y'might be forgettin'.” Micah shrugs, that being his best advice available feeling in much the same place, himself. “No, not game night. Knew that weren't happenin' or you'd bet I'd be cleanin' or haulin' food or somethin' by now.” That assertion comes paired with just a hint of lopsided smirk. The smirk tempers itself before he continues. “How's things goin' with the prosthetic trainin'?' A small nod indicates the older arm Flicker is using. "Google is usually pretty reliable about making sure I don't miss work." Flicker's grin flashes a little crookedly. "... think I'd miss it all the time, otherwise." He tucks his phone away, scuffing his fingers through his hair and leaning up against the back of a chair. There's a small bounce, still, in his posture. "Oh. It's -- you know. Going." His eyes dip down to the mechanical hand. Lift back to the plants. "Is there more to do with the plants?" His best suggestion, maybe. "If anythin' happens t'Google, I'm done," Micah agrees with a chuckle. "S'got /all/ of m'calendars, m'contacts, m'email, m'message systems, m'photos, m'whole /phone/... Pretty sure y'might could reconstruct me if y'just used m'Google footprint." He addresses the last two issues in reverse. "Always more t'do with the plants. Pop off any flowers y'find on the herbs. Check if any of the soil's gone dry an' give some water. Prune any dead bits. Y'can fuss over a /lot/ if you're a bored gardener." Another slight inclination of his chin follows Flicker's glance at his hand. "Y'know y'got pretty much all-hours access t'me if they're givin' you any trouble. I'll sure help problem solve y'out." He shifts his weight a little from foot to foot. "We wrapped up with the motion capture with Taylor. Startin' in on the computer modellin'. S'the part where I'm real glad t'have an engineer on hand." "You /are/ pretty good at fussing," Flicker teases lightly. His mechanical arm shifts at his side, moving up to rest against the back of the chair. The other shoulder lifts in a small shrug. "Not really looking to pester you at all hours. Therapy is just --" He hesitates a brief second. "Slow." Another fidget adjusts his backpack on his back. "B's going to be out of here soon enough, though." "S'the practice that gets y'good at it. Trainin'," Micah rolls along with the tease, giggling a bit but with a hint of blush thrown in. "Yeah, s'gonna be slow. I know it's no /real/ reassurance comin' from someone outside of it. But you're rewirin' your brain t'deal with the rewirin' of your muscles, y'know? An' that part don't come out of a one-shot surgery yet, unfortunately." The very small smile that finds Micah's lips is bittersweet. "Ze's gonna be doin' all kindsa things, all kindsa places. I'm gonna hold onto m'denial 'bout how often ze's gonna be away for just awhile longer. We /do/ have an honest-to-goodness engineer on the team, though. This kinda development takes a lotta folks. Should have y'meet 'em at some point, even if it's still way b'fore where you come in officially. Sometimes helps folks at both ends t'see where the other is." "It's not really getting me good at it." Flicker shrugs again, shifting uncomfortably once more. "It's not getting me /anything/. At all." He shakes his head, straightening with a flash of smile again. "She seems super excited about it, at least. So that's -- pretty nice to see. Kind of deserves something good for once." "Okay, maybe some of the Fret is genetic, too," Micah relents playfully, though there is concern tugging at his brows. "Honey, are you sure you're okay? I got plenty of hugs an' a willin'ness t'listen, if nothin' else." He wanders closer, leaning against a table next to Flicker. "It is good t'see. Did y'know Shane got into Juilliard, too? Less excited, though. Think...he wants it an' he's worried 'bout it at the same time. Couldn't get much out of 'im at the time. I just want 'em both t'be able t'get what they want..." His head shakes, cutting off a longer thought process that's probably well worn by now. The smile fades from Flicker's face. His fidgeting quiets, too, weight settling in against the chair together with a tip of head. "I heard. Honestly not -- sure he /should/ be excited." His lips compress. A small tightening of jaw. "It'd be nice if we lived in a world where he could be? But I'm pretty sure he's smart enough to know by now 'get what he wants' is --" He doesn't finish this thought. His fingers curl against the back of the chair. "Instead he -- wants to run off and join our team." Which puts a deeper frown in his expression. "I just...hope it don't keep 'im from /tryin'/. If it /is/ what he wants, y'know? He wanted it enough t'apply, I just..." Micah sighs, rubbing the heel of a hand over his eyes. "I know it could go real wrong, but it could also... I mean, B's goin' t'MIT. An' ev'rybody's like, yeah, well, she's a genius. But Shane is, too. Just in a dif'rent way..." The rest of Flicker's revelation slips the needle on the record playing Micah's thoughts just then. "He wants to what? The... Oh. I thought he was so glad never t'be seein' that school again, it... Did he tell Jax this? An' even. I mean, even if he did. Don't need t'be an /instead/. Folks...y'all do...that an' still have outside lives." The darkening of his expression implies the way the rest of that stuttering line of thought falls...regarding still needing to /be/ alive for that to apply. "Yeah, but /you/ --" Flicker's jaw tightens, further. His eyes lower, breath pushed out in a slow exhale. "Yeah," he says instead, after a quick shake of head. "He told Jax. It just -- doesn't feel. Good. I know he's not a kid. Think I just wish /none/ of us had to -- you know." "I know. I never /get/ t'understand, not really. But that's not gonna keep me from wantin' things for m'kids." There's a certain level of exhaustion to the slight droop of Micah's shoulders, the increasing heaviness of his lean against the table. "I...should talk t'Jax. He's gotta be losin' it just a little after that. /I'm/ losin't it just a little, so prob'ly more'n a little..." His teeth drag across his lower lip then press in more firmly. "I /do/ know. I don't want. None of this for none of m'family, I want..." his hand sweeps a little in front of him, "art school. Not... But, ohgosh, after bein' with Jax, I /also/ know... I'm not standin' in the way of what people /need/ t'do, neither." Not that there isn't a small muscle twitching in his jaw, either. There's a faint sag to Flicker's shoulders. "Yeah. I mean -- I think we all. Probably -- /want/ things." His head tips downward, a small smile curling his lips. "And people will do what they need to do whether we try to get in the way or /not/." Just a hint of rue in these words. "Even if it isn't --" But here, just another shake of head. He slips around towards the door, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder with a small uncomfortable /twitch/. "I should get. Kind of a pile of work to get done." “That's part of why there's no point gettin' in the way t'begin with,” Micah agrees with a sigh. “If it isn't...?” It's the kind of confused tone that implies no ability to complete the sentence on his own. He nods at Flicker's work announcement. “Yeah, that's...school does that.” "Next week, maybe." This time Flicker has a readier smile. Brighter. "Maybe next week we'll get back to gaming." His hand claps Micah lightly on the shoulder before he blips back out into the garden outside. “Maybe,” Micah agrees, returning the smile and leaning into Flicker's arm a little. “I'll cook somethin' for it.”