ArchivedLogs:Residence
| Residence | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 13 September 2013 Lighthaus team meeting about a potential new roommate. |
| Location
<NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village | |
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. With the end of the school week upon them, Jackson is preparing for -- well, admittedly, more work. Friday evening finds him flitting between kitchen and bedroom, tending a pan of stroganoff on the stove and getting dressed and made up for a shift at the club. Tight white jeans shot through with faintly silvery pinstripes, a ice-blue tank underneath a white fishnet shirt, head freshly shaved, silver polish on his nails. In the living room Spencer is sitting on the floor by the couch, currently engaged in a fierce tug-of-war with Obie for possession of a knotted length of rope. There's music playing in the kitchen from Jax's laptop, a redone cover of a 'If I Had a Rocket Launcher'. Micah has been home for all of ten to fifteen minutes. He emerges from the bedroom having changed from work clothes into more appropriate Friday Night In wear, consisting of well-patched jeans and a powder blue T-shirt with a smiling Totoro face on its front. His trip from bedroom to kitchen is interrupted briefly to ruffle Spencer's hair in passing. Once his hands are washed, he takes over the periodic stirring of the food on the stove and begins setting the table. The twins are dressed for a Friday Night Out -- at Fight Club, at least. Comfortable in sneakers, matching black shorts, a grey tank top on one and a black on the other, they don't have much to distinguish them when they enter. Both pause to slip their shoes off by the door, both pad over to lean against the back of the couch and watch Spencer and Obie. "Micah, what have you /done/." This sounds simultaneously amused and accusatory. "Unleashed some kinda monster." The other twin turns sideways against the couch to look towards the kitchen. "Anyone ever told you you're sort of magic?" Thing One doesn't look towards the kitchen, still watching Spencer and Obie. "Monster?" Jax pokes his head out of the bathroom, now, currently in the process of tweaking makeup to go with his outfit. "Oh gosh, what now." Given the twins' amused tones, there is no real alarm in /his/, just a bright curiosity. "Y'all gonna be here for the party tomorrow, right?" Spencer bounces up without actually releasing his grip on the rope, tugging a stubborn Obie along as he hops up onto the couch to give each of the twins a one-armed hug. The beagle is still making small growling noises as he tugs back, front paws now rested on the couch cushion. Spencer wobbles back a little with each tug, precarious balance threatening to fall off the couch. "Uh-/huh/ they're gonna be here," he answers /for/ the twins. "They won't tell me what my presents are." "If they told you, there'd be no surprise." Jax slips back over to the kitchen, peeking at the seitan in one pan but for once /not/ compulsively stirring it, since Micah has already done so. He adds some wine and paprika to the cooking sauce, turning aside afterwards to grab himself a large glass of orange juice -- there's a faint shakiness to his hands, though it's less worry-levels and more fairly standard (for him) too-much-lightbending not-enough-sugar levels. He hoists himself up to sit on the counter opposite the stove, downing a third of his juice on one long gulp. His teeth wiggle at his lip ring a moment, brows pulling together as he looks at the twins and their clothing. "-- Joshua goin' with you?" The twins arrive as Micah finishes placing plates on the table, and he waves to them in greeting with a bright smile. “Hey, Shane, 'Bastian!” Their first question shoots his eyebrows upward with concern. The other twin's follow-up comment clues him in as to its intended reference. “Oh, you two must be on the Horus textin' list. I just let him know I wasn't gonna respond to 'im more than once every ten minutes or so an' turned the sound notification for texts off on my phone. Not that it isn't /buzzin'/ constantly still, but...” He shrugs, looking mostly amused at all of this. “He's got /plenty/ of people to occupy him in between my readin' up on the Horus Digest an' respondin' to it all at one go. Since he's been doin' the same thing to half the buildin'. I think I might just get ‘im to set up a Twitter account so people can go look at the latest in Horustalk at their own pace. Maybe cut down /a little/ on the stream of consciousness textin’.” Their /second/ question, for some reason, calls a petal pink blush to Micah's cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. “Might've heard that a few times before,” he replies simply, deciding that this is also a good time to retrieve silverware and arrange it on the table. Then there is talk of Spencerparty! “Besides, I already told you that you get to have /one/ present tonight, 'cause we're gonna use it while we got the place to ourselves. All these guys are runnin' out right after dinner, so y'won't have t'wait /too/ long.” Even while his attention is mostly engaged elsewhere, Micah does notice Jax's shakiness. He pauses on his way to fetch glasses to rest a hand on Jax's knee, giving it a little squeeze. He gives an 'are you okay?' look rather than actually asking, to avoid worrying the boys. “Well, you could stand to hear it a few times more.” Shane’s grin is /bright/ and toothy, offered to Micah and Spencer equally as he squeezes his little brother back. “Cuz oh my gosh Horus hasn’t been this excited since --” Sebastian hops over the back of the couch after his hug, leaning down to ruffle at Obie as well. “-- pretty much ever.” Shane wanders over to the counter between living room and kitchen, hoisting himself up to sit on a stool and propping his elbows on the countertop. “Buuut yeah he needs a Twitter.” “It’s nice, though. That was -- I think he’s been --” Sebastian is picking up Obie’s floppy ears. Wiggling them around. Bending them back to make a HAT on top of Obie’s head. “-- going kind of crazy I think he needed this.” “Josh’s coming with us,” Shane adds in reassurance to Jax. “Dusk and Flicker, too.” Jax just answers the look with a quick smile, a tap of fingers against his juice glass -- fine, or will be after some sugar to tide him over till foods. “Oh gosh,” he says with a laugh, “by the time I got through class t’day my phone was /so/ full’a messages it was ridiculous. He kept tellin’ me about all the awesome graffiti he found flyin’ around the city. Stopped an’ took pictures every time he thought he done come across some’a mine. Think it might wear off after a week or -- three.” “What if,” Spencer plops back down to sit cross-legged on the couch, watching Sebastian’s rearrangement of beagleears with a grin, “we go /with/ the twins to their fighting --” “No,” Jax cuts this off short with a wrinkle of his nose. “Maybe when /you’re/ in high school, honey-honey.” It is, at least, nothing Spencer has not heard /before/. He rolls his eyes and reminds Jax (as though this is a very /pertinent/ argument:) “I’m /eight/ now.” But the thought of Upcoming Present is enough to temporarily distract him from this: “We can’t play it with them? What about with Tag, is he coming home?” This mention puts an abrupt flush in Jax’s cheeks. “-- Actually. I kinda wanted to talk to all y’all about him.” “Yeah,” Micah says simply, “I think a /lot/ of folks have had some of the creepin' crazies lately. Would that they were all as practically fixable as this was.” He nods at Jax's silent answer, giving his leg another squeeze before moving to the stove to stir at each of the pans there. “Oh, so he figured out the camera, too.” Micah shakes his head, chuckling softly. “I'm kinda interested t’hear which voice he picks up. Once he's gotten over bein' so excited he can't stop talkin' long enough t'try out more than the default one. But, yeah. I think a little time t'get used to bein' able t'communicate as clearly as he wants with whoever he wants, plus a place t'dump his random thoughts when he wants to will help decrease the text volume t'the known universe.” Micah's headshake comes at the same time as Jax's 'no'. “Sorry, Spence. Ain't a good place for you t'be. An' /besides/. If y'went there tonight you'd have t'wait for /all/ your presents until tomorrow.” He grins at that...there are certain trump cards you can play with children, and it's nice to have one /on hand/. “It's somethin' they can use later if y'want 'em to. I don't really /ever/ know what Tag's gonna be up to. But he can join us if he comes in. S'pretty much always welcome as far as I'm concerned.” Pans stirred, Micah moves back to the cabinet to pull down enough glasses for everyone. “What're people's drink preferences for--?” Jax's comment cuts him short, brows crashing together in sudden concern. “Oh no, is Tag okay?” “Don’t think it helped that we kind of all started out a little nuts.” Shane pushes himself up on the counter, leaning way over across it to nab a piece of frying seitan straight out of the pan on one long claw. “He was telling /me/ all about the best places to people-watch.” “There /was/ one break in the afternoon. I -- think he forgot to charge it,” Sebastian says with a quick smile, smoothing Obie’s ears back down. “-- Oh! Did something happen to Tag?” He looks towards the kitchen with an abrupt frown. Shane doesn’t respond with concern, watching Jax’s flush and flashing a sharp grin as he chews on the seitan. “-- Did you finally fuck him?” “What oh -- oh gosh oh --” Jax’s flush spreads brilliantly, through his face and out to seep red into the air around him. “Oh, oh no, I didn’t -- um, /no/, we --” He presses the side of the juice glass to his cheek. “-- did kiss,” he admits with a soft happy smile and no notable lessening of his blush. “But that ain’t what -- why on earth would I want to talk to all of /you/ about that that is not what.” His eye scrunches up, and he takes another sip of juice. “No, I just. Wanted to talk to everyone about how all y’all would feel if Tag moved in here more permanent-like.” Spencer has brightened at Micah’s reminder of /tonight/-presents, dropping Obie’s knotted rope to leave the beagle in Sebastian’s hands as he bounds towards the kitchen. “/Okay/. Can /Jerusalem/ play, too, if Tag isn’t --” But then he frowns, at Jax and then over towards the door to Tag’s temporary home in the twins’ room. “-- where are Shane and Bastian going to -- I thought /they/ were coming home.” “A /little/ crazy is actually a good thing, I think. S'just when it starts to /stack/ that y'have problems.” Micah bites back a warning against /mouth burning/ to Shane, remembering how much harder the twins are to damage. “Yeah, I think you're right on the chargin', 'Bastian. We're gonna have t'get him a portable charger or two at some point. Ain't a kind thing when your /voice/ suddenly shuts off on you. 'Specially when it's also your internet access. I'm glad, though. He seems like he's already gettin' out more. S'all good things.” Shane's question also causes /Micah/ to blush a little, though he does look to Jax with a curious expression under the deepening shades of red. Do tell. The admission of kisses stretches his lips into a broader grin. “Oh no, Jax. My boyfriend is /stealin'/ my fiancé,” he teases, the mock dismay in his voice utterly ruined by the fact that his dopey /grin/ is still there. “It's startin' t'sound like one of those...shows that people go on t'yell at each other durin' the middle of the day? People have 'em on half the time when I go t'deliver stuff.” “I got nothin' against another roomie. This place is kinda /huge/ for an apartment in the city, an' the loft's just full of empty mattresses an' art stuff whenever there aren't guests crashin'.” Micah's eyes track to the loft. “Could fit everybody in here without too much trouble. Just gotta get some more shelves put in for storage...organize up the closets a bit. I can do that pretty cheap'n easy.” He reaches out to muss Spencer's hair again. “Jerusalem can play, too.” “We are coming home,” Bastian assures Spencer. “We’ll be moving stuff back over here next week, probably.” Shane tears off another piece of seitan, gulping it down quickly. “Stealing, pfft,” he says with a smirk, “I bet he’d be thrilled if you joined in.” “I think you have to be mad at each other before you go on Jerry Springer.” Sebastian slips over to join Shane at the kitchen counter, climbing up onto a stool and leaning in to take a bite of the seitan tight out of Shane’s grip. “The loft’s got plenty of room,” Shane agrees, “and besides,” his teeth flash brighter, here, “he can just sleep with you guys at night, I’m sure your bed’s got room for another.” “Do you want Tag here?” Sebastian glances between Micah and Jax with a curious tilt of his head. “I mean. Are we talking like a roommate or like --” He waves his hand between the two of them. Shane’s comments do not help Jackson’s blush, still furiously crimson as he bows his head over his juice. He gulps down the rest of it, setting the glass on the counter and sliding back down to the floor. He moves back to the stove, turning down the heat and adding more things to the pan -- arrowroot, mustard, almond milk, nutritional yeast. He stirs slowly as his blush, faintly, starts to subside. “Um -- oh. Gosh. I don’t -- think we’re quite at --” He draws in a slow breath, focusing down on the pan with a small crooked smile. “-- he just ain’t sure when he’ll be able t’go back to Mel’s an’ don’t think it’s quite fair t’ask her to keep the room for him indefinitely so -- so it makes more sense to. Stay. Here.” He glances back up, setting the spoon back down on the edge of the pan. “But -- yeah. I -- would be happy t’have him here, I just -- not unless alla you are happy with that, too.” Shane has a talent for making blushing worse once it starts, as Micah illustrates now by seeking out a few darker shades of red, the tips of his ears and back of his neck also changing colours. “Um...Shane. I don't think it's quite /that/. I mean, that would be a whole 'nother discussion with different people in it, anyhow.” He chuckles at 'Bastian. “No, I didn't mean t'be /on/. You're right, there's entirely not enough hostility here for somethin' like that. Just /sounded/ like one of the banners they have on the bottom of the screen.” And, oh, look, there /were/ some darker reds to deal with yet as Shane keeps talking. Micah gives up on portioning out drinks, just taking the glasses to the table and then following them up with pitchers of lemonade and tea so people can decide for themselves. He gestures at Jax, a sort of wave and a nod after the other man provides further explanation, silently seconding the sentiment. “Not yet?” Shane looks /highly skeptical/ of this, frowning at Jax and Micah as his hand shifts closer to Bastian to better enable seitan-thievery. “Give it time, then, I mean c’mon you’ve wanted him since before /you/ two were even --” Sebastian rubs a hand against his cheek. “Oh, gosh, it /does/ sound like a talk show, doesn’t it?” He tugs the rest of the seitan off of its skewering onto Shane’s claw and tips slightly sideways, head bonking down onto his brother’s shoulder. “Is he going to pay rent?” “Iiii don’t think he even has a job, dude. I mean presumably he will /eventually/.” Shane shrugs, propping an elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his palm. “S’cool, I’m down. If we hang curtains from the ceiling up there that loft’s a pretty sweet room anyway.” “Mmm.” Sebastian falls quiet a moment, eyes closing and his brow furrowing slightly. “... okay. Sure. But he should get a job.” “Think he will eventually. I mean, think he’s tryin’.” Jackson shrugs, eying the seitan in its pan and then setting a pot of water on the stove to boil; he grabs a box of noodles from the cabinet, opening it up and putting it on the counter beside the stove. His teeth click against his lip ring, gaze shifting towards Sebastian for a moment. “-- You sure, hon? You don’t -- seem real sure. Y’don’t gotta say yes, you know. This is /your/ home first. Always will be.” “/I/ like him,” Spencer opines, moving over to the kitchen table to climb into a seat and pour himself a lemonade. “But only if he gives back Shane and Bastian’s room.” “He's been lookin', but there's an issue with his papers or somethin',” Micah explains, finally settling into a chair now that there is nothing else to gather for the table until the food is done cooking. “Dunno what t'do about that aside from findin' a way t'get papers or dealin' with sketchy employers who don't mind he doesn't have 'em.” His nose crinkles up at the second option, clearly less than pleased with that idea. “If he moves in, it'll definitely be t'the loft, Spence. Shane an' 'Bastian will get their room back,” he reassures with a little smile. “Wouldn't be nothin' t'put a privacy curtain track in up there. Gives the option of havin' it open or closed easily as the situation requires. I'll check in with the management t'see if they're okay with me installin' things.” He backs off on that a bit as 'Bastian and Jax seem to have a less certain discussion. “I mean, if that's what's decided, anyhow.” "Psh, c'mon, we know people who can work out the ID thing, don't we?" Shane's brows lift questioningly at Jax. "I mean, how many people come out of those labs with their /papers/ in order?" Sebastian grimaces. "Not most of us." He stays resting against Shane's shoulder, gills slowly fluttering open and closed. "Look, it's not that I /mind/, I like Tag he's cool just --" He shakes his head, eyes opening again. "Just I know how stressed you /already/ get with bills and -- you barely freaking sleep and you steal Dusk's internet because you get upset when we pay the bills for you and you work four jobs /and/ school and spend how much money all the time to bring things to the Morlocks and Harlem and --" He shrugs a shoulder, frowning. "I'm sorry I'm being the jerk here, I get that Tag is in a tough place, but you guys have some kind of /problem/ with charity cases. Do you need another person to take care of right now?" His hands drop to his lap, shoulders tensed. "He stays here, he gets a /job/. Like, in some concrete timeframe. Or you acknowledge that Shane and I both actually have jobs and let us help with rent and bills around here." "Yeah, I know people who --" Jackson starts to say, but he falls quiet before finishing, listening to Bastian with a small crease forming between his brows. He stays quiet a bit afterwards. Adds some salt to the water, a dash of olive oil, and tips in the pasta to let it cook. "Oh." And then another quiet, teeth wiggling at his lip ring. "No, that's -- fair. I just -- I never want /you/ guys to feel like you need to -- like I can't --" He draws in a slow breath. The faint tremble has returned to his hands, his frown deepening as he adds peas to the sauce. "-- take care of you guys. Like you have to..." He shrugs, a little stiffly. "I'll talk to him about work, you don't need to -- pay rent here." “You make a good point. D'you guys actually know people who...do that stuff? If he had papers in order, the job search'd be more fruitful for sure.” Micah's teeth press to his lower lip as 'Bastian elaborates. “No, honey, you're not bein' a jerk. Just...practical. Prob'ly ain't a bad idea t'rein us in now an' then.” He sighs, drumming his fingers on the table for a second. “We should work somethin' out with Tag before it's an official thing.” He watches Jax as he speaks, the frown, and the tremble. Taking to his feet, he collect Jax's glass and fetches the orange juice from the refrigerator to refill it. He taps Jax on the shoulder, holding the glass out. "But you /can't/ --" Shane starts with a frown. Sebastian interrupts, shaking his head. "Look, we know you can take care of us, you've /been/ doing it for a year and a half now. But --" "-- you shouldn't /have/ to work yourself to death to do it. I mean, how old were /you/ when you started working?" Shane turns a somewhat imploring look to Micah. “Can’t you -- /make/ him not be stubborn?” “/Hah/.” A small thin smile flashes across Sebastian’s face at this. “He could also make the Pope not be Catholic.” Jax nods to Micah, stirring at the sauce and then dumping the pan of seitan into it. “I do. I can. I talked t’him a little bit about it but -- yeah. Would help with the job hunt a lot I think.” He looks down with a faint touch of confusion at the glass, but then shakes his head abruptly and takes it, with a smile and a small peck given to Micah’s cheek. The smile fades, though, as he gets out a colander to drain the pasta. “I was --” His nose wrinkles. “-- much younger’n you,” he admits reluctantly. “But --” His head shakes. “I’ll talk t’Tag. We’ll -- talk to Tag.” “S'a little...not okay to /order/ people out of actual...personality traits. I wouldn't be comfortable doin' that,” Micah answers Shane, nose scrunched up at the thought and fingers tracing idly along Jax's back. “Oh, good. See? Got a plan in place already, then. Soon enough there will be an employed an' rent-capable Tag. Not t'worry.” Either that sentiment or the little kiss prompts a smile. “Yep. Definite Tag-talks in the future. That sounds like a radio show or somethin', too...” Shane scrunches up his nose as well, at Micah’s answer. “You don’t have to /order/ him you could just --” “-- reason with him.” Sebastian slides off his stool, heading to the kitchen and getting out a bowl for Jax to put the pasta in. “Or,” he continues more brightly, “we could just give --” “/you/ money for rent. And you could /sneakily/ pay things with it.” Shane holds his finger to his lips, /shhh/, as though -- Jax is not standing /right there/. He hops down from his stool, too, heading into the kitchen to join Spencer at the table. “There, see?” Sebastian sounds far more cheerful, now. “Got a plan in place already.” Jackson’s eye squeezes shut, one hand rubbing against his cheek, though there’s a smile on his face. “-- Guys I’m not sure. You really get the meaning of sneakily.” He shakes a last few drops of water out over the sink and tips the pasta into Sebastian’s waiting bowl. Briefly, he leans slightly back into Micah’s touch. “C’mon. Let’s -- just. Eat.” | |
