ArchivedLogs:Out of Chaos

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Out of Chaos
Dramatis Personae

Doug, Jackson, Micah, Parley

2013-10-07


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Location

<NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village


Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival.

  • (Jax --> Micah): Remember when I said I would tell you when I was getting too overwhelmed for Things oh man I think I'm having one of those days.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Uh-oh. What things are being overwhelming? What do you need? Are you okay?
  • (Jax --> Micah): Nothing that's the stupid part! I mean I feel like a stupid... um. Something.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I mean nothing's happened and when there is crisis I handle crisis just fine and then when there's no crisis I panic.
  • (Micah --> Jax): So...you are overwhelmed because you don't have anything to fuss over?
  • (Jax --> Micah): OK maybe that's not true I just feel like I should handle small things better when I handle everyone getting shot at fine.
  • (Jax --> Micah): But my team is stressed and exhausted and we've only just STARTED prepping for the next run and
  • (Jax --> Micah): I'm completely failing my advisees at school. I don't know how I'm supposed to be a good parent when I can't even handle getting these kids through high school.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Ivan and Daiki are both doing WORSE than when I started working with them and Shelby vanished off the face of the planet.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Jax, honey. The team is taking kind of...a little time out right now, which is a good plan.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I don't know much about Ivan, but Daiki seems just fine? What makes you think he is worse?
  • (Micah --> Jax): Shelby...seems like the type of kid who isn't used to staying in one place. I'm not sure that has anything to do with you.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Daiki always seems fine. We train him to seem fine. It's ugly when he's not fine.
  • (Jax --> Micah): But he's not fine? He got moved into his own dorm this year because it was getting bad being around people.
  • (Jax --> Micah): And Ivan's -- actually he reminds me a lot of Hive he just loses himself. Except I can't get him away from insects, that's even HARDER than getting Hive away from people.
  • (Jax --> Micah): And I had half of my team out to the school to start training again. We're kind of out of shape. :/
  • (Micah --> Jax): I don't know, hon. How do they train these kids with their...abilities? It sounds like these are primarily ability-issues. Daiki and Ivan, that is.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Like maybe they need more intensive training on how to control their powers? Turn them down or off or something. Do they have people with similar powers who could schedule regular sessions with them?
  • (Micah --> Jax): Training is good. That kind of activity can actually be helpful for relieving mental exhaustion. A change of scenery isn't a bad plan, either.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Are you at the school? You sound like you need a hug. :(
  • (Jax --> Micah): I'm at school, but the OTHER half my team is due for a session soon. So. I'll be taking them off to battle shortly.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Training depends a lot on what their abilities are. But I've been working with Ivan a lot on thinking-exercises to try and help it just. Doesn't. Seem to help.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I don't think I am cut out for advisoring I've barely even been a teacher any time at all. I haven't even finished school myself!
  • (Jax --> Micah): Oh gosh and at this rate I never will I don't even want to think about how many classes I've missed and I'm only a month in. Or how behind I am on schoolwork.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Maybe they ought to consider pairing people with similar abilities? Or at least...ones with similar mechanisms of control? Because...maybe Shelby was a good match for you in that way.
  • (Micah --> Jax): But it sounds like Ivan needs a telepath or someone with an ability like that to be able to help him. Unless you have training in controlling telepathic abilities that I don't know about?
  • (Micah --> Jax): And Daiki maybe needs...an empath? Or somebody like Lucien, maybe. A...your abilities don't have much to do with emotion things like that.
  • (Micah --> Jax): And they could give you all the kids who do images and lights and illusions and fire and sun things?
  • (Micah --> Jax): I don't know, is that silly? I don't really know much about the workings of your school. For...good reasons, but still.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Well, we try to pair people up if they're a good fit personality-wise more than powers-wise so the kids have folks they're comfortable with?
  • (Jax --> Micah): And then when it comes to concrete things like powers-help or academic-help we kind of. Talk to other teachers who fit better if we're at a loss.
  • (Jax --> Micah): But like if people are having trouble with their powers AND are just depressed and falling apart I think I'm just failing on a lot of ax... ax...
  • (Jax --> Micah): Oh no what's that plural.
  • (Micah --> Jax): That's great for general counselling, but it sounds like they need abilities help, too. This is a little like giving a literature professor a chemistry major as an advisee. Maybe fine for just talking about /life/ but not a great match if you want to create a good little chemist.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Maybe the kids all need two advisors? One for each of those things?
  • (Micah --> Jax): Axes. And...I don't know, honey. It feels like you're being asked to solve problems that are outside your scope of experience. Who helps you when you need help? You're still kind of a newish employee.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Axes? What like chopping things that's so weird.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Can it be like axii instead?
  • (Jax --> Micah): And yeah I just contacted one of the telepaths here to ask for them to take over helping Ivan with his powers for me but I feel kind of like I failed.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Axes. Rhymes with bees. Not axes, rhymes with taxes. But you can go with axii if you like it. ^_^
  • (Micah --> Jax): Honey, you didn't fail. People are /complicated/. This is why there's that whole 'It takes a village' cliché? Because it does.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Ivan probably needs teachers and abilities advisors and academic advisors and general counsellors and psychologists and... Just like all of the other kids. They need /people/.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Axees. Hee.
  • (Micah --> Jax): And you did the right thing. You asked for help when you needed it.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I'm imagining bees preparing for war now. Helmets. Battleaxes.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Cute, hon, but did the rest make sense?
  • (Jax --> Micah): I don't know. They need people.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I don't always feel like a people.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Because you're not people. You're person. You need /other people/ to help you be people. Get it?
  • (Jax --> Micah): I don't always feel like that, either. But yeah. I definitely need. That. Other people.
  • (Micah --> Jax): So many hugs... Why don't you feel like a person, hon? That doesn't sound like a good feeling.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I don't know. Sorry. That was melodramatic I don't know if I really meant it. Everything just feels surreal sometimes. I feel like I'm faking it. Just one massive illusion.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Oh, hang on, second team is ready to go. Back into BATTLE for an hour or two.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Don't apologise if that's how you feel. You're just being honest. Do /you/ have somebody that you can talk to there about...work things?
  • (Micah --> Jax): I mean...I am entirely here for you. I just...also don't know a whole lot about that stuff and could use some help with. Helping you.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I love you, hon. I want to keep talking about this when you're done, okay?

(It's not till some hours later, edging into early evening that Jax sends Micah an answering text.)

  • (Jax --> Micah): Wow, sorry, hon. That was grueling. We're really not ready for this again.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Also sorry I kind of just word-vomited all over you I think it's one of those days. Are you home yet?
  • (Micah --> Jax): So you will practice. You are on top of this, honey.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Don't apologise. I want you to tell me...when things aren't okay, too. So I can help. Or, at the very least, /know/. I'm working in the van. Can be home in minutes.
  • (Jax --> Micah): What do you want for dinner?
  • (Jax --> Micah): I just got off the subway I'm in the park oh hey it's Parley!
  • (Jax --> Micah): I am showing him my pretty ring.

It's a muggy kind of overcast day common in east coast autumn; kind of cold, kind of muggy, too sweaty to wear a jacket, too cold to go barefoot. Joggers circuit through the park in a bizarre mishmash of shorts, tanks and earmuffs while a pair of business women take turns uncertainly opening and closing their respective dark umbrellas when they feel a drop or two that fails to manifest in genuine rain.

Parley is perched up on the back of a bench seat, gripping a pencil in his mouth while he hunches over a Moleskin braced on his knee. Taking an erasure to a few lines of spiky hirigana. He's gone down to a wife beater and loose thin gray flannel, jeans with worn out knees and converse shoes. Scrub-erase.

Evening finds Jax bright and cheerful; shiny silver leggings under a sky-blue halter dress. Silver-edged blue eyepatch, orange-red-yellow flame-dyed hair. Dusty-silver faux-leather jacket draped over one arm but gooseflesh prickling his skin. Applejack and Pinkie Pie socks. Chunky silver-and-blue platform sneakers. There's a bounce in his step as he cuts back through the park from the subway, but it's underlaid by a deep-rooted exhaustion borne two parts of physical exertion and one part of Long Work Day.

He almost passes by Parley entirely, on his way through the park; it is perhaps only months of bodyguard training that prompt him /to/ take a second look at Things In The Corner Of His Eye. When he does exhaustion is slightly displaced, if not removed, by a sudden genuine blossoming of warmth; there's a hesitation next but only for a split second before he bounces over. "Parley! Hi! Am I interruptin'? I have cookies! And /news/ -- well OK maybe it won't be exciting but /I'm/ excited. How're you doin'?"

Doug is...not bright. In fact, the teenager looks kind of gray and worn as he makes his way through the park. Dressed in a green henley over jeans and a battered pair of work boots (all of which seem somehow faded in the shaded daylight), he's got his laptop bag slung limply across his chest, and his backpack hangs heavily from one shoulder. He sort of /shambles/ along the path in the general direction of Parley and Jax, and the Apartments beyond. He, too, radiates exhaustion that stem from a number of sources, most prominent being the Crush of School.

He might not notice either of the other two, only Jax is speaking, and reflex turns his chin in that direction to verify the voice. He teeters with a mix of indecision and guilt before he shifts in that direction, swallowing hard before he offers a bright smile. "Hey! Did I hear the word cookies?"

It's hard to miss the BRILLIANCE that is Jackson, in color and mind, even weighed down as it is, by exhaustion - Parley's eyes raise absently to watch him /dazzle/ by like a large hummingbird - and then eyebrows follow the upward trend. At almost the exact moment the illusionist hesitates, the empath also tenses minutely, closing his moleskin. And finds himself inquiring, very seriously, "What kind of cookies." As though all else depends on the answer to this one question.. save that he's cupping out a hand for cookie-alms? Fun fact, he still has the pencil in his teeth - but he can mutter all he wants, it will sound clear anyway. Mphflkees?

His dark eyes swivel to Doug and he informs him, "He has cookies." Helpful. "And /news/." Body language has a deep well of unspoken communication; none of which even requires empathy to express itself. He's pulling in his feet and rocking his knees together - please, sit?

"Ohgoshthanks I think I worked myself half t'death -- only worked my people a /quarter/ to death though but I split 'em in to two sessions so I was just kinda --" Jackson blushes as he opens up the messenger bag over his hip. "/Sorry/ wow I'm word-vomiting." Which tends to mean there there's not, currently, an /awful/ lot of dissonance between his mental processes and what he's saying, just a bright restless flit of retread over the training sessions he'd run and -- Oh! Cookies! They're macaroons dipped in chocolate, which answer bubbles cheerfully to the top of his mind before he opens them to display the crispy-coconutty cookies dipped at their lower halves in rich dark ganache. He offers the tub up to Parley as he gratefully sinks down onto the bench and off his feet.

"/Oh/ oh right news --" He's already lifting his hand, fingers lifting to show the fiery sunstone nested in its white-gold band; mentally there is a fierce /swell/ of happiness, bright and warm that eclipses, for a moment, any exhaustion. But the cheerful-bright warmth is doused in a moment at the sound of Doug's voice, though externally his smile doesn't fade. His hand lowers to his lap and he offers the macaroons to Doug, as well. "I did! They're macaroons, d'you like coconut? Gosh, y'look tired, hon, you been sleepin'?"

Doug leans over to examine the cookies with a bob of his head. "I love macaroons," he says, deftly snagging one from the container and straightening again. His own mental processes are slow and sluggish, like an overloaded computer processor, and it takes him a minute to decipher Jax's question. He lifts a shoulder, then, and wrinkles his nose. "Couple hours a night," he says, and bites into the cookie, << (probably)(I think) >> He makes a small hum of pleasure before he speaks again, licking crumbs from the corner of his mouth. "Hazard of overachieving, though." He lifts his eyebrows, and tips his head in Parley's direction. "So what's the big news?"

Delicately selecting a macaroon with a thank-you dip of his head, Parley's eyes have slowly fluttered closed, threads of tension easing in a few nondescript locations under the warm dusting of information trailing off Jackson. That, or it's the effects of the first bite he's lazily chewing in the side of his cheek. Letting out a long exhale. Doug's presence is soaked in as well, on delicate reflex. It softens his edges to his company - all the easier to sneak-lean forward to peer down at the ring Jackson had raised. Silently, eyes remaining lowered, he wipes off a hand on a pantleg to rid any potential macaroon-stickiness and dips it down, palm up. Silent request for Jackson's own hand, to see? But he's actually speaking, when he does, to Doug, "Are you working on a project?"

"Oh --" Jackson's cheeks flush deep, his eyes lowering to his lap. He plucks out a macaroon for himself, leaving the box open on his knees in case the others want more. "Oh, I -- it wasn't --" There's a twinge of /guilt/, here, a sudden tense-awkwardness flushing through his thoughts; the /happy/ is rising again but the guilt seems inextricably linked to it. And to Doug. Almost without thinking, he shifts his hand to rest it in Parley's upturned one, its sunstone less brilliant in the grey day but still coppery-red. "It matches my hair," he says a little shyly, /this/ fact evidently Very Important in his mind.

"Couple hours ain't a lot." One corner of his mouth pulls upward, smile returning, if slowly. "Think we might," His head nods a little bit towards Parley, "know a thing about overachievin', though. Our building seems made for workaholics. How's yours goin'?" There's no ulterior question to this question, tipped Parley's way, just a quiet curiosity as to how he is faring in the city's waxing and waning tensions.

Doug shakes his head at Parley's question, wrinkling his nose as he chews on his cookie. "Just an extra-heavy course load, this term," he says, and there's a weary roll of his mental landscape that might be a shudder of regret. "Trying to lay in enough credits to qualify for internship applications." << (Stark)(hopefully) >> His eyes track the ring as it's presented, the sluggish processor working on what it /means/, exactly, as he answers Jax. "I haven't gotten the hang of overachieving," he confesses. "I just go until I crash, and get up when the alarms go off." He manages a lopsided grin at this, sheepish though it might be. "Yeah," he says to Parley when Jax turns the questioning on him. "I haven't seen you around. How've you been?"

"Go until you crash..." Parley doesn't look up from the ring; he's crammed the rest of his cookie in his mouth, somewhat forgotten, as he turns Jackson's hand from one angle to the other in the dim light, "I don't think there are many who can afford to live otherwise." He swipes a thoughtful finger over the coppery red stone, "Mnhh. Heroes for Hire hasn't yet been burned to the ground. Yet. And Luke Cage was alive last time I saw him. I'll consider that a success. We're coordinating a donation drive for St. Martin de Porres... --/is/ this what I think it is?" He shifts tone so abruptly he seems puzzled /himself/, looking up at Jackson's face.

  • (Micah --> Jax): Do we have sweet potatoes? I want sweet potatoes in something. Do you want to cook? You have dibs on cooking like always. But if you don't want to, I can.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Oh, you got a pretty ring? I wish I had one of those. :(
  • (Micah --> Jax): Oh, look, I /do/. :D

"Not in this city, at least," Jackson agrees with a soft laugh. "S'kinda the way of things. Work until y'can't, get up an' then work some more." He tucks his macaroon into his teeth, too, freeing up a hand so that he can dig his phone out of where it's buzzing in the side pocket of his bag. The brilliant flutter of happiness returns even before he's answered it, just looking at Micah's name on his messages; his blush deepens fiercely /with/ this swell of happiness, warm and pleased. "Oh --" He swipes out a quick message, setting the phone in his lap.

"I started goin' to church there," he admits, "until its, um -- /wow/ was it unnecessary smashin' a truck into the place, don't you think? An' Luke Cage seems pretty hard to kill. Thankfully. He seems --" << Misguided >> << Reckless >> << To have spectacularly bad judgment >> "-- well-meanin'. And yeah." His voice softens, here, fingers curling just a little bit down against Parley's, the ring slightly more prominent. "It is. We don't got nothin' like a date or anything set yet but I asked Micah --" He flicks a brief glance to Doug, smile still warm but a distinct tinge of discomfort in his thoughts. "-- t'marry me. He said yes. His ring's -- starrier."

  • (Jax --> Micah): Oh gosh you /do/? That's awesome I bet it's not half so pretty as you are though.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Also um Doug turned up oops. I don't think we have sweet potatoes I can detour and get some.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I don't know about all that... It's /pretty/ shiny.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Uh-oh, is everybody okay still?
  • (Micah --> Jax): No, that's okay. We can make something with whatever's in the house. I just...don't remember what's there already.

Doug blinks as Parley answers the question, and his brow furrows. "Wait," he says, tilting his head to /peer/ at the smaller man. "You work for Luke Cage? The guy who's in the news all the time?" His eyebrows lift, and he shakes his head. << (Gotta keep up with stuff) >> "Wow. And I thought I had a big work load. But that's pretty cool, anyway. Like working for a celebrity." He grins, and pops the last of his cookie into his mouth, chewing it firmly.

There might acutally /be/ a record scratch in his mind when Jax reveals the meaning behind the ring, and it takes a second of furrowed brow before he wipes crumbs from the corners of his mouth and smiles. "You guys are getting married?" he confirms, dusting his fingers against his jeans. "That's really cool." It's genuine in its offering, and the teenager holds out his hand. " Congratulations."

"Very... well-meaning." Parley measures out agreement, distractedly. "It's only a part time," his own hand curls back without seeming to notice, returning the pressure from Jackson's hand with a look towards Doug, "--I still part time for Ms. Basil and... well, my interpretation work has dried up... I don't really know what to," he turns back to Jackson, with a tentative, uneven-twitching smile, "--I'm glad." He hrffs out a thin bit of air through his teeth, tightening his fingers harder, joining his other hand to enfold the illusionists, fingers gently brushing his inner wrist just - pet. Pet. Pet? "There isn't enough good news, is there."

Jax is swiping out another text message through this reply, but he sets the phone in his lap when Doug extends his hand. For a moment he doesn't really register it; inwardly he's been /bracing/, emotionally, preparing himself for some outburst -- when faced with congratulations instead he briefly blanks. It takes a half-second before he smiles, brighter and wider and pleasantly surprised, reaching up to shake the offered hand. "Thank you," he answers warmly, blush still very much in evidence. "An' thank you," this time to Parley, with his fingers curling a little bit tighter around Parley's. "It's definitely been -- with everythin' going on I been glad for any happy I can grab hold of. Especially after --"

He doesn't finish this, but his mind does, in fragments of worry and snippets of newsclips of Harlem. Fire. Luke Cage. Waiting fretting and tired by the /couch/ that had to serve as Micah's recovery bed, changing out bandages on Dusk and Micah's bullet wounds. "-- Well. S'been hectic lately."

He glances down to Parley's fingers, set against the colourful backdrop of his inner wrist (on the left arm, it bears ink of a raised fist in a circle, clutching a carrot.) "S'it been okay for you? I mean, coupla part time jobs, s'it aright or are you lookin' for more?"

Doug grins a bit more easily when Jax shakes his hand, and when his grip is released, the teenager snags another macaroon before stepping back. "It's been really crazy," he agrees, looking over his shoulder at the park and pushing down a sudden wave of isolation that threatens to topple his good humor. When he looks back, he's still smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "It's good that you're grabbing some happy in the middle of all the chaos." He bites into his cookie, then, shifting his gaze to Parley as Jax questions him. There's a twinge of curiosity; it's apparently a thing he would like to know, as well.

  • (Jax --> Micah): Yeah he's actually. Surprisingly okay. I didn't want to say I was expecting drama. I wanted to TAKE BACK telling Parley that I had news.
  • (Jax --> Micah): But he just said congratulations. Um also we have a lot of kale and mushrooms in the house that might be it. I really need to do shopping.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Yeah, I can see that. I would probably have wanted to shove something in my mouth. Can't talk! Mouth full. So sorry. Bye! >_>
  • (Micah --> Jax): At least it sounds like nothing got broke?
  • (Micah --> Jax): Kale and mushrooms sounds good. Actually sound good /together/. Could probably just. Stir-fry. Garlic.
  • (Jax --> Micah): No this is actually eerie and now I'm not actually sure if I'm talking to Doug or to Mirror.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I mean, Parley's here, they're often together.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Also OMG yes garlickalemushrooms I want that in my face.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Um...actually. It is hard to tell. The only way I have of knowing is the Vulcan salute. If ze even remembers that.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I can make this thing happen. If I go home now. Maybe. There could be a tofu or a tempeh. Depending on what is in the fridge.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Oh wow. That would be so amazing. I kind of maybe ate dinner but I also was training for like four hours so uh MORE dinner is definitely. Necessary.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I hope there is tempeh I hope this with all my heart.
  • (Jax --> Micah): OK maybe just some of my heart it's weird how much of my heart is currently busy making *_* eyes every time I see your ring and remember that for some bizarre crazy reason you love me.
  • (Jax --> Micah): ... umm not that my heart actually has eyes. At least I hope not. That'd be a little macabre they'd just be looking at blood ALL DAY.'

The passage of Parley's thumb pad over the back of Jackson's knuckles is brief, fingers cool; it comes around the same time Jackson's thoughts turn inward, but for all the myriad factors it could be for anything - his expression remains calm, smiling mild with a shrug, "Mmh, I never say no to work where I can find it. But I was able to save up when the market was better - hopefully," he taps his thumb against the moleskin in his lap, "I'll be able to use the downtime to get licensed. I have," his fingers tap again, "forgotten more than I realized."

  • (Jax --> Micah): Do you mind if I bring Parley up for dinner?
  • (Micah --> Jax): That was long enough ago that we can call that 'dinner' and this 'supper'. I will feed you like little Hobbitses.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I hope there is tempeh, too. I can do that one skillet thing with the garlic and ginger and pepper and coconut oil.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Oh, oh honey. You're needing to look at a ring to remember that? I must not be saying it enough. Or there need to be more kisses.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I love you.
  • (Micah --> Jax): And some people might like the blood thing... Dusk, maybe.
  • (Micah --> Jax): I love you.
  • (Micah --> Jax): Will that get you home faster so that I can give you kisses?
  • (Micah -->Jax): Because I love you.
  • (Micah -->Jax): I am walking home now to make food.
  • (Jax --> Micah): You can give me all the kisses. Please give me all the kisses. I love you so much.
  • (Jax --> Micah): Um probably All The Kisses after Parley leaves, though, I don't know how comfortable he'd be if I decided I really wanted you to tie me up and fuck me on the kitchen table.
  • (Jax --> Micah): And wanting that USUALLY is what happens when you give me all the kisses.

"Oh, oh /gosh/ sometimes I forget -- it must be so much /harder/ --" Jax blushes, faintly, but then suggests brightly: "Do you want a -- OK it sounds weird callin' it pen-pal when he lives right here. Daiki loves havin' folks to talk to though not-in-person an' he'd be thrilled to have someone what can actually write in /his/ language. An' practice for you maybe?" He shrugs again. Taps out another quick message, once he has his hand back. "Been a lot of chaos," he agrees somewhat absently with Doug's reply; there's a hint of puzzlement in his mind that doesn't make it through to his smile as he looks over Doug. "I hope you can find some, too." And then a deeper blush. "-- Happiness, not chaos. Oh gosh."

"You can also practice with me, if you want," Doug offers, polishing off his cookie and dusting his fingers against his hip with a tiny surge of hopefulness. "I mean, if Daiki's busy or whatever. I can shift stuff around and make time, if it'll help." He smiles, and lifts his shoulders at Jax with a wan little smile. "I hope so, too," he says. "For everyone, not just me. But I wouldn't complain if I stumbled on some first." His chest jerks, and his eyes crinkle at the weak jest, a stab of bitter humor that doesn't reflect anywhere but on the scape of his mind. << (gotta find time first)(and a guy) >> He scratches at his stomach as it growls, suddenly, and there's a wince of mild embarrassment. "I should probably go and get something to eat," the teenager says slowly, looking in the direction of the building, which suddenly seems a hundred miles away. And full of demanding cats. Outwardly, he offers a sheepish grin. "Now that I've actually remembered food is a thing."

"...Penpal?" Parley floats the word - listen closely and you can hear the Engrish of it, penparu, scruffing up his fingers up the back of his neck thoughtfully. The wet damp puts a cling to his fur, and he shrugs his flannel off the back of his shoulders to drape across his back, hooked off either elbow. Pragmatic scan of the area is conducted, though camouflage does have its uses. "--mmn, do you think so?" It's the sort of prevaricating answer that doesn't promise he WON'T be leaving an awkward letter crammed under the teen's door initiating stilted Japanese pleasantries. He's glancing askance, at Doug, for a quiet moment. Running his thumbpad over his fingertips like he's considering doing... something. The cool air ruffles a breeze past cheeks faintly flushed, tugging at the bristly black hair hung about his ears. "--Maybe." He answers, eyes darting up Doug's face, then down, towards his feet.

"Yup! Um, the kids gave up their apartment since they're back in school but he's still here most every weekend, if y'want to try an' catch him. Or I could just give you his email?" Jax shrugs a shoulder, glancing at his phone with a smile but a deeper blush. "Oh, gosh, dinner, yes. Dinner should definitely happen an' food is a thing an' you should do it. Y'gonna be at Game Night tomorrow, sometimes there's happy there?" << Would y'like to come to dinner? >> pushes forward more deliberately, together with warm thoughts both of Micah and of delicious garlicky kale. Mushrooms. Tempeh. Yum. << Micah's cookin' already. >> He lids his macaroons, tucking them back into his bag as he gets to his feet. He reaches up to squeeze Doug gently on the shoulder, leaning in afterwards for a very light peck on the cheek. "Take care'a yourself, honey-honey. Try not to drown /too/ much in school?"

Doug grins at Parley, his eyebrows twitching just once in time with the flash of concern across his mind. << (broke it too badly) >> "Well, if you want," he says with a small shrug. "I'm probably not much more catchable than Daiki, but my door's always open." Which is true, and an earnest offer. When Jax agrees with his assessment of the necessity of food, he chuffs a laugh. "Yeah, I'm just going to order from that Greek place," he says, shifting the strap of his bag. He's unprepared for the shoulder-squeeze, or the kiss, and he pinkens to near-crimson as he nods. "Oh, I'll be there," he says. "I am /refusing/ to look at homework tomorrow, just so I can make it. I might even bring snacks." This is amusing to him, and he begins to move towards the building, offering a lopsided grin. "You guys be careful," he says. "I saw a couple of those rowdy assholes over by the basketball courts. I'd hate for them to get hurt." He offers a final, cheery grin, and lifts a hand in a wave as he exits the park, pausing at the curb to gauge traffic before he jaywalks like any good New Yorker.

(The next text comes several minutes later.)

  • (Micah -->Jax): There is tempeh. I think I will add some maple syrup to the sauce. Do you want quinoa or brown rice?
  • (Micah -->Jax): Maybe...little kisses? Until Parley goes home. Then more kisses.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Then all the kisses. Because I love you.
  • (Micah -->Jax): And then maybe the other thing. I hadn't even /planned/ dessert yet.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I have macaroons dipped in chocolate.
  • (Jax --> Micah): But now I also just want you oh shoot psionic.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Yeah, not entirely...worried about cookies anymore.
  • (Micah -->Jax): I'm sure he's heard worse.
  • (Jax --> Micah): They're good cookies. They turned out so well! Crispy on the outside. Gooey inside.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I am going to think about cookies and not about all the things I want to do with you. Because psionic dinnerguest. Probably heard it before, probably still not polite.
  • (Jax --> Micah): I mean actually I have seen a cafe where they play porn while you eat Sunday brunch but we're not that kind of establishment.
  • (Micah -->Jax): You are just opening the door for bad jokes with that description, you know. Wiiiide open.
  • (Micah -->Jax): It doesn't help...we kind of already killed the word 'cookies'.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Porn and brunch just sounds...odd.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Distracting. Especially if the volume is up.
  • (Jax --> Micah): They called it 'smut and eggs'. I only went once it was very. Odd. It was totally a hipster thing. Unsurprisingly I went with a lot of friends from school.
  • (Jax --> Micah): OK also on our way up, be there in a bit! <3
  • (Micah -->Jax): Food shouldn't be long. It's really simple.
  • (Micah -->Jax): Also, I love you. <3