ArchivedLogs:Present Tense

Present Tense
Dramatis Personae Micah, Lucien	23 March 2014 Tea makes troubles better. (Part of the Future Past TP.)
Location <NYC> Tick-Tock - Greenwich Village
The quiet sound of soft music and softly running water greets the entrants to this tea house, playing from speakers hidden and trickling waterfalls cascading down the rocky fountains by the entryway. The ambiance here is subdued, a quiet escape from the bustle and noise of the city, focused on only one thing: tea. Tea of very good quality. They serve it in over eighty varieties, black and white, green and oolong, rooibos and herbals and mate, flavored and straight up. The seating here comes on cushions or kneeling chairs around low tables, the decorations in earth tones, and the knowledgeable wait staff is always helpful with a recommendation or a snack suggestion to pair with your drink. Behind the long counter along one side is an entire wall of bins of loose-leaf teas, available for purchase by weight. The afternoon is /crisp/ but sunny, temperatures in New York taking another nose dive lately with threat of another snowstorm later in the the week keeping the meteorologists yammering on the news. Micah is dressed like it is even colder than it is, having only the set of outerwear he was wearing /during/ the explosion of his apartment building left as an option. Fortunately, the only bloodstains that wouldn't come out are all lingering in the lining of his olive puffy coat. The rest of him is wrapped in knitwear: Jayne hat on his head, Fourth Doctor scarf wound around (and around and around) his neck, Wish Bear fingerless gloves layered over green gradient liner gloves. A pair of thrift shop jeans and similarly thrift shop hiking boots cover his legs and feet. He's looking down at his phone as he waits in line at the checkout counter, reading over a shopping list kept in a text file there. The door opens quietly, a faint breeze rustling in before it shuts again to keep the warmth inside once more. Lucien is dressed as he often is, neatly tailored peacoat over soft v-neck sweater, button down, dark jeans, black Alexander McQueen boots, green cashmere scarf. Not particularly bundled. He /was/ going to head to a table but stops, reroutes himself towards the counter, a quiet, "Bonjour," greeting the other man together with a light touch of fingers resting against the small of Micah's back. "I left a message, but I have not wanted to pester. Your husband probably does not even /have/ a phone again yet, non?" It takes a moment for Micah to look up from his phone at the greeting, but once he does he immediately pulls the other man into a hug. Perhaps it is a bit more enthusiastic a greeting than usual, but seeing people again has been having that effect lately. "Lucien. Hi, honey. Oh, I've been gettin' so many calls on account of I'm the only one who still /has/ a phone. An' I been drivin' 'round most of the day so I just...didn't..." He shakes his head, the movement prompting him to pluck off his hat and gloves to stuff these items into his coat pockets. "How are you?" Lucien hesitates, briefly, but then actually returns the hug. Fierce and tight, arms wrapping around the smaller man to pull him in close. "You look -- well." He sounds somewhat surprised at this, as he pulls back and looks Micah over. "All things considered. Desiree was keeping me -- somewhat posted. The school at least provides a rapid news network. How are /you/? If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know?" "I've...been fine. I was outside the buildin' when it happened. Was just gettin' home from work. If I hadn't stopped t'pick up Hive from his office, prob'ly /would've/ been home already. It was...all the others that were in bad shape. But they're all out of the hospital now. An' up at the school." Micah's teeth trap his lower lip for a moment, worrying it. "It's been tough. I been runnin' 'round most of the day. Just tryin' t'pick things up that people were used t'havin' 'round all the time, y'know? Like...some new K'nex an' clothes for Spence. Dropped...what was left of Jax's engagement ring off t'get it melted down for a new one an' picked out a new stone. Fortunately the jeweller's a friend of a friend an' they'll put off gettin' paid the full amount for it 'til the renter's insurance comes in. S'harder for other things that're expensive like...Shane's violin. That's one of those...daily comfort things for 'im, y'know? But hard t'pick up on pocket money. Came here t'get some of Jax's favourite teas." "Mmm. Life is hard enough to manage without tea on the best of days. Times like this," Lucien says drily, "it would be unbearable. -- Goodness, I cannot even imagine. What do you have yet to get? I could," he offers in an absent murmur, thumbs dropping to tuck into his coat pockets, "help with some of that. I have pocket money to spare and I can imagine your family could use whatever might ease your road a bit right now. It's been nothing but rocky for some /while/." "I mean, the school's kitchen has tea...but it's mostly tea bags an' whatever generic stuff they think t'stock the kitchen with. Ain't the same as makin'.../your/ tea, y'know? When you're used t'doin' that every day." Micah's head shakes as Lucien offers money, small roses blooming in his cheeks. "Oh. Oh, honey, apologies. I was just thinkin' out loud what I was worryin' in m'head. Didn't mean t'sound like I was anglin' for handouts. Y'don't have t'do that..." In glancing at his phone's list again for a reminder of the teas he needs, he catches the time. "How did it get this late already? Have y'had lunch? Might should just grab a table once I pick up a few tins." "I did not think that you were," Lucien replies with a small shake of his head. "But replacing clothing and gods forbid instruments and art supplies and the entire lives of five people is no small feat. I was not thinking to cut you a /check/, Micah, but I would not mind going shopping with you. It is a pleasant enough afternoon for it." He shakes his head at the question of lunch. "That is, actually. what I was just heading here to do. -- How are the others around your building faring? Do they have places to stay?" Micah is next in line at the counter then, picking up an even half dozen relatively small tins of tea along with a little small-talk type banter with the young man working the register. Once his purchases are stashed in the canvas shopping bag hanging from his shoulder, he gestures for Lucien to take his pick of tables. "I wouldn't mind the company, certainly, honey. I didn't mean... Sorry, I ain't gotta whole lotta brain left for social graces lately. I think I'm just gonna keep my mouth /shut/ at Jax's...award thing tomorrow. If I can show up not /lookin'/ like a street urchin that'll be a feat in itself." His fingers rake through his hair, mussing it worse than it had started. "In the long run? A lotta folks don't got set-ups just yet. Alla us were stayin' at the Clinic 'til Jax an' Shane got better enough t'move t'the school. Flicker's still in a bad way an' Hive an' Dusk've been stayin' with 'im most of the time at Sinai. The Red Cross set folks up with shelters for a little while. It's been...hard t'even keep track of people with everybody's phones destroyed an' folks just /scattered/ an' all havin' enough of their own things t'be worryin' about. Lucien watches the tea purchasing with critical appraisal, leaning up against the counter for no evident other purpose than /scrutinizing/ Micah's tea choices. His fingers curl into the crook of his arm, his head tilting to one side as he watches. Pensive. There's no outward sign of anything until he stands when the tea purchase is complete, huffing out a quick breath and slipping off towards the back to fold himself down onto a cushion at a small corner table. "I would not imagine this week has /spared/ you much brain. -- Award thing?" He sounds puzzled, here, green eyes fixing on Micah with a slight questioning lift of eyebrows. "Those shelters are temporary, though, non? How long until your homes are built?" Micah's blush only increases under the close attention from Lucien. He settles onto a cushion across from the other man, setting his bags beside him and finally stripping out of his coat to lay it atop the bags. A plain forest green henley shirt completes his thrift store outfit for the day. “Yeah, there's an award ceremony the Mayor's holdin' for folks as helped out durin' the plague. Not sure who all's s'posed t'be at it, but Jax got an invitation. Plain up an' forgot about it 'til he reminded me last night.” He nods in confirmation of the temporary shelters. “They are. Prob'ly the first houses'll be liveable by some time in June, so folks're gonna have t'find places. Flicker an' Aly could prob'ly both stay at the school. Dusk might be able t'stay at one of the safe houses for people with special abilities that his friends set up. But then...Hive's a harder case. Won't none of 'em wanna leave 'im. An' he /needs/ people t'help 'im right now.” "An award -- goodness. I /had/ heard tell of that. I had not heard he was invited." Soft amusement warms Lucien's tone, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he unwinds his scarf and sheds his coat. "I had word that Lieutenant Commander Carruthers would be there, I believe she was doing quite a bit to combat the horde in the streets and evacuate people trapped in heavy infestations." His amusement hasn't faded; he lifts a hand to rub his palm against his face. "Giving /Jackson/ an award, though? To /proclaim/ in public --" For the /very/ briefest of moments, at this thought he actually looks a little -- proud? /Smug/? It fades, though, into something that is just quiet and pensive. "I shall be /very/ curious to see who else they honour, then. That guest list could -- certainly be merely a token. But it could be quite a positive sign." His fingers drum on the table, and, slowly, he pulls a breath in through his nose. "As it so happens, I know a place. Quite large. Comfortable. A number of rooms that could easily become bedrooms for two short months with only a small amount of work. And I have had," there's the faintest tightening around the edges of Lucien's eyes, the faintest upwards twitch a the corner of his mouth, "/quite/ a lot of experience caring for those with terminal illness. Though I do not know how Hive feels about children." "Oh, Elliott'll be there? Maybe I /will/ be able t'talk t'someone, then. She's a good one. I'd hope they're plannin' on bringin' Rasheed an' Io an' Regan, too, but... Obviously /you/ didn't get an invite, so it ain't like they're /really/ callin' in all the people as did what was needed." Micah's head shakes slowly, a small, wry smile on his lips. "I must be gettin' all paranoid an' crotchety after the husband almost dyin' twice in as many weeks, but there's a small-nigglin' part of me that keeps sayin' this has gotta be some kinda trap." His eyes widen at the offer of space. "Oh...wow. Oh wow. Y'wouldn't mind if... That'd be a blessin' for sure. I mean...he gets along with Spencer just fine. He's grumpy 'bout people in general but that's just on accounta his--" wiggly fingers near his head, apparently. Micah's shoulders suddenly drop a bit, as if finally releasing a held breath. "I can't tell you how much of a relief it'd be to... I just been. I couldn't help enough people in this. Not with...'Bastian an' Shane an' Jax all burned t'the point of... An' Flicker an' Jim are still... An' /Spencer/ was..." Completing sentences seems like it won't happen for a bit. "Did Desi tell you? We...needed Karrie for Spence? I know they don't try t'spread 'round 'bout that too much." "I would have been quite put out if I did get an invite." Lucien's smile curls a little bit wider. "I spent half as much effort keeping my name /out/ of the press as I did putting your husband's /into/ it. And I would thank you very much for my involvement in that to /stay/ between those of us who were there. I think Parley and my part in its development is -- rather difficult to /explain/ without explaining --" He turns his hand upward, fingers spreading. "Well. You and your husband are very brave men, but I rather /enjoy/ my quiet life. /Without/ the death threats and exploding houses." The mention of paranoid-crotchety Micah actually earns a very small laugh, just a quiet huff of breath, a very small shake of head. "You, crotchety. That's an entertaining mental image. Though I do not think it counts as paranoia when people genuinely do keep trying to kill you." He tips his head upwards as a server comes, to deliver them menus and glasses of water, thanking the young woman in quiet French. "Hive is," he says a little bit more heavily, "putting himself at no inconsiderable risk in order to help find my brother. The least I could do is make sure he is not /homeless/ through the process. I imagine Flicker may want to stay with him. My house has plenty of room, thankfully." The mention of Karrie draws his brows together deeply. "Your family simply does not catch a /break/, do you? Micah, I think you need to go on vacation." "I know, honey, I'm not gonna blow your cover. I was just sayin'...prob'ly they're not gonna have the full complement of people as /really/ were the heroes in that. An' those are just the folks /I/ know about." Micah's hands rest in his lap, his eyes tracking to them. "I feel like an awful selfish person askin' her. Just since I been here she's...helped...Dai an' Jax an' Spence for m'family. An' she's been savin' my family--Shane an' Spence /both/--since before I even /met/ any of 'em. I'm sure there's other people as call on the girl, too, an'. I think it's doin' real horrible things t'/her/." His head shakes at the mention of vacation. "Honey, we need the /opposite/ of a vacation. Need more hours in the day. Jax lost /months/ of work on his oil paintin's for his show. Even if the school can get 'im all the supplies he needs... I'm gonna insist he takes some time off work so he can dedicate 'is time t'school. Maybe stop hours at Inkline altogether. Cut back at the Clinic. He's /still/ teachin' a few classes at the school, even with that. I'll just hafta...see if I can pick up more somewhere. We was already plannin' on loans an' credit t'deal with the next /three/...refugee projects. This ain't helped matters one /bit/." "Perhaps selfish," Lucien freely allows. "But everyone is selfish. It is largely the only way we know how to be. She acts in her own self-interest too, though, so it balances out in the end. Whether the physical toll outweighs the emotional benefit is a decision only she can make." Lucien doesn't look at his menu; his hands fold over it, his eyes settling long and steady on Micah. "You need a vacation," he says again, "you just cannot /afford/ one. Those are two entirely separate issues. And you've just had your entire life burned down and in need of replacement. You were not exactly wealthy before. Tell me honestly, can you really afford him cutting back on work, just at the moment?" "What else is the poor girl s'posed t'do? Just say 'no, let 'em die' t'friends askin'? It just...doesn't seem like somethin' that can be asked fairly, 'specially not of a kid. But what else were we t'do?" Micah's hands lift to muss through his hair again. "Prob'ly not with the way our budget was set out. But I'll figure somethin'. Can't...keep makin' 'im put his finishin' school on hold. The art's what he really loves an'... He puts so much work in on it. It'd only be /more/ financially unfeasible t'keep draggin' 'is school out anyhow. We can work it out." He finally does look to his menu. "Apologies, honey, I didn't mean t'spoil your lunch with money woes. Really, we're all incredibly grateful just...t'have everyone come out alive as /did/. There was a lotta folks that wasn't even able t'say that. Y'just caught me...in the middle of replacin' things an'...figurin' out priorities an' it was just at the top of m'mind right then." "On the one hand, you will not have rent to pay for April and May, which is -- no small portion of budget. But, on the other hand," Lucien says a little wryly. "You are buying a house -- /building/ a house -- which presumably comes with all the expected mortgage and downpayment and, gods, construction costs --" His fingers unlace, and then lace together again. His eyes tip upwards towards the ceiling. "You know, once upon a time, artists had patrons. It seems a kinder setup, non? Handle the material worries, leave them free to just -- provide some beauty to the world." Once more his fingers unlace, crossing again in the other direction. His gaze levels back on Micah thoughtfully. "What /are/ your priorities, then?" "Yeah, stayin' at the school is...gonna make things a lot easier for a few months. I think with that, we should be okay with Jax workin' less. I'll just have t'pull in more. There's plenty of work /out there/, just a matter of puttin' the time to it." Micah's sigh turns into a chuckle at the mention of patronage. "Guess I make kinda a lousy patron of the arts, then. Trouble with that is needin' somebody who's /that/ into your work t'wanna take a personal stake in keepin' it goin'. Who /also/ has the resources t'do it." His eyes move over the menu without taking in any of the text. "Makin' sure everybody gets...remember that dream we had? I want the boys t'have that. For B t'go t'the school he wants...whether or not he wants to be 'he' when he does it. For Shane t'be doin' somethin' he's passionate about...whether it's takin' over Evolve with Aly or not. For Spence t'be happy an' learnin' an'...makin' people laugh with his little genius antics. For Jax t'be...smilin' an' laughin' like he was. T'finally be able t'/finish/ what he started with his art school despite every roadblock possible gettin' thrown at 'im. An' t'somehow in the middle of all that still be able t'help the folks we been helpin' get back t'havin' lives 'til...somethin' changes an' we ain't gotta do it anymore." Micah taps the menu, looking up from it. "Y'know, I been thinkin' of writin' a book? On the kind of work I do. Specifically for providin' for people with active X-genes. Is that a terrible idea? I just think...maybe there's more people out there who'd be helpin' if they had the first clue how t'start. Or even were aware... It'll be awhile. 'Fore I've got the time t'do it. But there's gotta be needs /outside/ New York, too." Lucien chuckles, soft, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Yes, I think it was generally a position taken by the very wealthy. Having an excess of resources seems somewhat inherent to the task." He reaches out to pick up his water glass, ice rattling in the cup and his thumb tracing a neat circle in the condensation. "I remember the dream." His voice is very soft. "Do you think it's a future you could have? It certainly seems one worth working towards. But the present --" He exhales quickly, taking a small sip of water. "Does not seem to be cooperating, non?" He lowers the glass back to the table, running his forefinger around the rim. His brows raise, a very brief smile curling up at his lips. "Really? On the contrary, I think it's a sorely needed thing. If your chaotic life has proved anything, it's that there is a dearth of medical knowledge on how to treat --" His head shakes. "Well. Any number of things. I think it would be a valuable contribution. Have you been collecting good notes? Life seems to throw enough examples at you. Sad though it may be." Lucien's laughter brings a smile to brighten Micah's tired features. "Why not? We're all fighters. I think we can get it... I mean, did I even /tell/ you that Jax's friend Aly moved from California back here plannin' t'help Shane re-open Evolve? She owned a bakery an' creamery out there. S'like that dream came in an' said...'here, I got a perfect idea for you'." His head shakes at Lucien's claim of the present not cooperating. "We--my family, I mean--we're actually gonna come out of this just fine, y'know? If it weren't for Jax's artwork an' supplies an' Shane's violin? Weren't nothin' that ain't easy enough t'replace in the end. Once alla us...recovered, physically. It'll be tight. But we'll come out okay. Did y'know they found Obie? That dog's been /touched/ by some kinda somethin'. He had a couple superficial burns an' some singed fur. If it weren't for the shaved spots, you'd never know he'd been in a flippin' /explosion/." The question of notes has Micah laughing in turn. "Ohgosh. If there's one thing modern medicine knows how t'generate it's /paperwork/. An' my job in particular is kinda obsessive 'bout all the fidgety little details. I got more notes than anyone'd ever /want/ much less need." He picks up his own water glass to sip from it. "I hope it'd be helpful. Need t'talk t'the patients 'bout usin' any of their information for case studies, though. Don't know if any of 'em will feel safe enough for that. S'kinda...hard t'anonymise /really/ when you're talkin' manifestations of the X-gene in combination with medical needs." "/Did/ she?" This news about Alyssa actually makes Lucien sit up abruptly straighter. Derailed from the rest of the conversation, his eyes narrow on Micah in sudden uncharacteristically genuine startlement and his hand drops to topple his water glass over their table. "Tss, tabarnac," he mutters sharp and irritable to himself under his breath, righting his glass and moving his napkin to sop up some of the mess and then reaching over to pilfer extra napkins off a neighboring table. "Micah, doesn't that strike you as --" He exhales sharply, brows furrowed as he works on soaking up the spreading wet. "Yes...she...actually moved in with Hive'n Dusk'n Flicker just in time t'get all the stuff she came with blown up 'long with the rest of ours," Micah adds with a rueful tone. "Ohgosh, honey, you alright?" When Lucien spills his water, Micah adds his own napkin to the sopping-up process, then stops a passing server to ask for a towel. "Strange? Odd? Slightly eerily predictive? Take your pick." He rescues the thankfully plastic-covered menus from the spill, giving them a small shake to get the wet off of them. "Yes. All the above. She owned her own store out there? And she -- what? Just gave it up to move across the country and start an untested venture with a sixteen year old catering to the country's most hated minority? No, scratch that, not untested. /Tried/ and literally went down in flames." Lucien does manage a small smile, a small thanks, for the server when he returns with the towels, though it's a little strained; he mops the last of the wet up, apologetically letting the server clear the sodden mess of paper-and-cloth towels off the only slightly-damp table. "I am fine," he answers Micah after this, giving his head a small shake. "I just had a conversation yesterday --" His lips press together, very faintly. "I think I may get a squash soup. And a Ti Kwan Yi oolong." "She said she'd been in the process of sellin' it. An' she went t'school with Jax here, so I guess it's more of a comin' home thing for her than a movin' away. But she moved the time-table up when Shane talked to her 'bout the shop." Micah shrugs slightly. "We mentioned all those things to her an' she just said that she's the right kinda crazy, so..." He looks over his menu again, actually going about /choosing/ lunch items this time. "Oh, oolong sounds nice. But I think I need t'go for a black. Maybe the Yunan Gold. An' their turkey sandwich has avocado slices an' sunflower bread. Hm." Lucien's incomplete sentence gets a head-tilt when it seems that he's not going back to it. "A conversation about...?" "Pippin," Lucien answers with a mildly distracted tone. "Their current lead is fantastic, but just announced his departure for some time later this year." He glances up at Micah, shaking his head as he puts his menu aside. "Forgive me. I got somewhat derailed. Anonymity does seem a non-trivial problem, but -- no small number of them are the type of people who would not exactly be /hidden/ no matter what they did. Perhaps they would be willing to help, then. It is not as though you would be publishing their names and /addresses/. And if you are publishing information about someone's /wings/ -- well, anyone who sees them will have already noted /that/, whether they're listed in a textbook or no." Another sudden thought distracts him yet /again/, brows creasing in brief concern: "-- Micah, this ceremony tomorrow. Your husband and the others are being awarded honours for services to all of New York, n'est-ce pas? That -- sounds like a rather /formal/ sort of affair." "Luci...are y'gonna try for it? I mean...prob'ly for the understudy position that'll be open when the current understudy fills for the current lead. But...honey, that's /big/ an' you're /perfect/." Micah's grinning-excitement is contained somewhat by return to other conversations. "Maybe...I hope so. Medical information's just real...personal, y'know? S'a lot t'ask of somebody." He cringes a little at the mention of the formal event, cheeks brightening back to a warm pink. "Um...I was hopin' maybe I could rent somethin' halfway decent last-minute? Jax's gonna...illusionist his way into somethin' super-fancy 'imself. An' I guess he could do the same for me as long as I'm /next/ to 'im. But the more he does all at once, the harder it gets. An' if I have t'like...go off t'the bathroom or somethin', that won't work at all." "I do not know. If I did -- well, it would be arrogant to assume I /got/ the part, it has been many years since I did any acting." Lucien's lips twitch in amusement. "/On/ stage, at least. I can hardly say my skills are rusty, though, my work gives me plenty of practice. But -- if I did. It would be /uncanny/ --" He shakes his head, lifting a hand to rub palm against cheek in a gesture far more /tired/ than Micah's grinning excitement. He drops his hand back to his glass, finger returning to trace against its rim. "Halfway decent. Mm. I suppose most people never have cause to /own/ a tuxedo," he acknowledges wryly, eyes slipping over Micah in brief appraisal, a thoughtful-considering look to his expression. "Matt's clothing has always suited you well enough, though, non?" "No, but even if y'didn't, it'd be worth goin' out for it. I mean, when's the last time y'even tried?" Micah will still offer an optimistic little smile, even if Lucien seems to be lacking his enthusiasm. "Well...gosh. 'Til I started goin' t'these things with Jax, I ain't hardly ever even had cause t'/wear/ one, much less own one. S'a little bit much of an investment t'even start t'think about now." He sets his menu aside, not having need of it any longer. "We /are/ 'bout the same size. Luci, if you're sayin' you've got somethin' I can just /borrow/, I might have t'kiss you." "Tried? Broadway? High school," Lucien answers lightly. "I was the Artful Dodger." A brief smile flickers across his face, warmly amused. "In our line of work -- with our type of clientele. During the holiday season especially it's somewhat a /parade/ of charity balls and galas and /not/ owning a tux would be unwise. Even the rest of the year I need them -- often monthly. I have two. Matt had an exquisite one. It will look well on you, I think." His small smile returns as he glances up, making eye contact with their server when Micah sets his menu aside. "We are right around the corner. You can take it home with you after lunch." "See? You should definitely try an'... I'm gonna drop a Willpower point into /not/ makin' any of the obvious comments on /that/ role for you." Micah's grin slips wider and more lopsided in amusement at that. "See, this is why you're fancy an' I'm...not." He gently claims one of Lucien's hands to brush a kiss to his knuckles. "You're a lifesaver. That'll give me more time t'run about collectin' people's soaps an' lotions an' whatever. An' make a thrift store run that's less of a /dash/ for basics. Gettin' folks back into their routines one way or another by tonight's the plan... Thanks, hon."