ArchivedLogs:Riot Of Colour

Riot Of Colour
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah, Jax	14 May 2014 Painting Evolve. (Warning: Some sex ed talk.) (Part of the Perfectus TP.)
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Evolve isn't open yet. At the moment it isn't even /furnished/ yet, a vast expanse of space with not much /to/ it past very /freshly/ redone grey resin flooring, a lot of exposed brick between the new pale wood in the walls, shiny new countertops with pale wood beneath. Exposed beams in the ceilings, a /lot/ of shiny new hanging brushed-steel light fixtures -- possibly to make up for the fact that there are somewhat fewer windows letting in /natural/ light, now, than there used to be. Shane isn't dressed in his usual polished style today. Today it's sneakers, dark grey cargo shorts, a shiny /new/ t-shirt that reads 'CHOMP CHOMP is shark for I love you' -- or, well, it isn't actually new, it looks kind of worn-in, but it's certainly not one he's /had/ before. He's bouncy, energetic as he goes to unlock the store and energetic /still/ as he starts carting supplies from Micah's van down into it. Painting supplies. A /lot/ of sheets of plastic dropcloth. Micah is /in/ the van, dressed simply in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans with his hair a tousled mess. He assists with loading Shane's arms up with supplies from his position inside the back of the van, following in with a last few bags of goods over his shoulders only once the van is emptied of painting supplies and locked. His movements are growing more and more assured as time passes, no crutches in sight even as he carries the not-exactly-light load of supplies into the shop. Jax is helping -- or, was helping, he /had/ a load of paint cans to carry but once arriving in the coffee shop he has maybe forgotten to return for more, instead just tipping his head back to look over the space with a slow breath. He's in jeans as well, a thrift-store pair faded and worn, and the Cooper Union tee he's paired with it is /already/ pretty paint-speckled. He at least remembers to get /back/ to work as the others bring the rest of the supplies in, starting in on the task of applying plentiful tape-and-dropcloth for protection. "This is why he teaches what he does," Shane says brightly, dropping his last armload of brushes and rollers and trays onto the floor and moving over to take some of Micah's last load. "S'always so fucking conscientious about playing safe. I was totally just gonna come plowing in, spray fluids everywhere." Micah sets his bags down in a supply-full corner, surveying Jax's handiwork thus far and looking for places that need more brilliant blue painter's tape. "Y'know, I always thought the colour of the painter's tape was so pretty it's a shame it just all gets pulled off at the end. A lotta times it's nicer'n the colours folks is puttin' on." Shane's commentary sparks a flare of red blush in his cheeks. "Oh...goodness. Um. No, honey, y'gotta cover all the things y'don't want paint on or, inevitably, paint ends up on 'em." Jax's cheeks flood deep crimson, too, his head shaking as he tosses Micah a spare roll of tape from where he is standing on a stepladder wrapping plastic over one of the hanging lamps. "We're doin' the ceiling so basically /everything/ needs --" He waves a hand at the light fixtures, probably the most /tedious/ of Things Needing Covering. "I /think/ he knows that an' he's jus'." His nose crinkles, cheeks still flushed deep red. "... bein' Shane." "Blue is a pretty great colour," Shane agrees cheerfully. "But I think we're going to be pretty-greater. At least that's what Pa says and he'd know, right? -- But so, okay, if you /like/ everything all wet and messy it's just okay to do it bare then?" He grabs some tape and plastic himself, clambering up onto a countertop so that he can reach its nearest lamps. "Hmm...I think I'll take care of the floor kinda things, then. I'm gettin' a /lot/ better, but ladders'n such ain't /never/ been m'favourite things." Micah busies himself with taping things closer to the ground, like moulding or any non-removable fixtures at his level. "What's the grand plan, then, visionary?" he asks Jax with a lopsided grin. His cheeks darken further at Shane's ongoing commentary. "Definitely...bein' Shane." Jax's blush just deepens, furious and dark as he climbs down to move his ladder and start again. His mouth opens and closes, the back of his hand scrubbing against his eye. "... I don't know if this is a genuine question I'm s'posed to be /answerin'/ or if you're jus' tryin' to make me blush t'death," he finally says, "I ain't /never/ been good at double-entendre am I just supposed to give you a proper answer on this?" He slides the roll of tape over his hand, wearing it around his wrist like a bracelet as he continues working. "Shane vetoed rainbows an' glitter," he answers Micah with a long-suffering sigh, "so there went my /original/ concept right out the window. Actually we're pretty much mostly stickin' with simple. Gettin' rid'a the windows -- well, I didn't want to clutter the place up with too /many/ different things or it'd jus' feel /busy/ so jus' one bold solid colour -- um /gosh/ I'm ramblin' /'pologies/, uh. We're paintin' things in lime green." Shane's mouth hooks upward, his smile crooked. "Can't it be both? I just -- /I/ don't know I got the whole safe sex talk from you like two /seconds/ after moving in. But I was out in the woods the other -- night and I ran into Dusk --" His eyes dart over towards Micah, then turn back to his work. His gills flutter against the sides of his neck. "A lot of lime green in the paint, black for the furniture. All the brick and steel just gets to be pretty all on its /own/." "I'm guessin' /both/," Micah answers Jax's question, though his eyes stay rather intently on his work. "That's gonna be pretty bright. Makes the paintin' of it easy. An' brick'n steel's kinda that...modern industrial look. Not a bad plan for coffee in the city." Kneeling over the tape with his head down doesn't help things as much as he'd hope, considering the colour creeping up the back of his neck and ears. Jax exhales quick and sharp, head shaking slightly as his gaze flicks briefly in Micah's direction too. There's a small upward tug at the corner of /his/ mouth as well, though his blush, contrastingly, starts to fade with the segue from /innuendo/ into actual plain sex talk. "Well --" His teeth drag briefly against his lip as he works. "I'm not sure I'd say it's okay just because you /like/ it that way, but there's always gonna be a level of risk assessment that -- ultimately s'up to you and your partner? And obviously the safest thing is to use protection always, but if you're with someone an' you're really totally sure about their history and your own an' you both been tested on the regular -- it's /still/ gonna be /safest/ to use protection because you're probably never honestly /gonna/ be a hundred percent sure. But sometimes people get t'a point with regular partners where they know the risk level well enough to feel comfortable goin' without an' that's between them. You still," he tells Shane firmly, "should keep condoms on you." He climbs back down off his ladder, stretching his arms up over his head as he looks slowly around the shop. For a moment his brow rumples in focus -- and then smoothes out with a grimace. "Ohgosh. This was so much better when I could jus' show you what the end product's gonna look like." His nose crinkles, a small crooked smile on his lips. He moves over to grab a tray and a tin of paint, stooping to prise the lid off with a somewhat /victorious/ smile once he has accomplished this. He tips the lid over to wiggle its very green underside towards Micah. "Pretty bright," he agrees. Pretty brightly. "OK but how does that apply to freak mutant bodies that maybe don't even contract diseases /anyway/. -- Also you know Dusk sleeps with like /basically/ every person he's ever met, right?" Shane's sneaking another sidelong glance towards Micah, though now his smile is not so much teasing. Maybe a note of concern in his voice. "Don't worry. I /had/ a condom when I went to see him." The smile fades into this time a /distinct/ look of concern as Jax looks around, though it's short-lived. He slides off the counter, trotting over to wrap an arm around Jax's waist. "S'okay. We'll see it soon enough when this place is all done. He's gonna give me art to hang on the walls, too," he tells Micah. "There always used to be a lot here -- I think I'm only gonna take work from mutant artists though." Well, apparently this conversation is happening despite his body's best efforts to spontaneously combust. Micah's tape placement is entirely more fidgety than it needs to be, the back of his neck seemingly working on matching his /hair/. "He's careful 'bout who he feeds from," he finally manages /words/. "An' uses protection with everyone else he doesn't. S'just...a valid point that once y'got teeth in veins exposure's pretty much /done/ already. We've...talked 'bout this kinda stuff. A lot." His fingers trace over the still-healing bite low on his neck, able to be hidden under a fully-buttoned collared shirt but quite clearly visible over his tee. "Weren't...exactly a plan, either. I went t'change 'is bandages an' /talk/." Eventually he scrubs his hands over his face as if this might somehow help with the /red/. "Yeah, we'll be gettin' it all up there soon enough. Then we'll see it in person." "/Maybe/-don't. Think 'less it's a /for-sure/ don't it applies s'much as anything. I mean, Dusk's /more/ vulnerable to every passin' infection if he ain't proper fed an' /you/ sure ain't invincible, pup. But --" Jax waves the paint-can-lid towards Micah. "Once he's drinkin' your blood ain't much protection to be had. He's careful. /We're/ careful. /You/ make sure you are, too." He crouches beside the paint can, picking up hammer and nail to tap small holes around the rim of the can before taking a stick to stir the paint. "Know a fair few artists might be glad for a chance t'sell their stuff. Y'ever seen Jim's photography?" He waves his hand at the walls as he finishes stirring. "Pretty much jus' all the blond wood is goin' green. S'enough brick t'won't be overpowerin'." He grins a little crookedly before he adds, "... I hope." "Wasn't entirely a plan for me, either," Shane admits with a small flutter of gills, rocking back to go start sticking rollers onto the ends of long handles as Jax stirs the paint. "Just -- seemed like he really. Has missed being -- touched." Long paint-roller in hand, now, he dances his way across the plastic, bouncy-twirly as he extends the roller to Micah. "Jim's got a photo of the Clinic up in Hive's office. And he got all those shots of you and Dusk and people during the -- when the city got all painted up with your shit --" He shakes his head at Jax's small tacked-on concern. "Pfft when have you /ever/ done something that looks ugly it'll be great." "Mmn...yeah. That was certainly...the exception rather than the rule." Micah's teeth gnaw at his lower lip. "It's real hard when you're used to expressin'...pretty much everythin' through touch. Not t'be able t'do it anymore," he explains with a heavy dose of voice-of-experience in his tone. He takes the roller from Shane with a small smile. "S'right. Comin' from you it might be /bright/, but it'll never be /bad/." "Pretty sure he was fair glad for the company." Jax's brows crease as he tips paint into one tray and then a second, carrying one of them over towards Micah to set it down beside him and Shane. He leans in, kissing his husband lightly on the cheek. "Jus' kinda glad you're /all/ back to --" His hand lifts, fingertips tracing against Micah's cheek lightly and leaving a little streak of lime-green in their wake. Shane slips his arms around Micah as Micah takes the roller, squeezing tight and tipping up onto his toes to dot a kiss on the /opposite/ cheek in time with Jax. "Well that's over now. Though --" His brow creases as he pulls back. "... you know there's a. Warrant out for -- they're looking for him. I don't think he'll do so good in jail right now. He barely even seems --" He shakes his head, huffing out a quiet breath. And then crooking a small grin at the paint-streak on Micah's cheek. He doesn't do anything to /help/, really, just stoops to dab a fingertip into the paint and trace another thin streak of green onto the other cheek. "There, now it matches." Micah nods at that firmly in confirmation. "He is...ohgosh. Needs people bad but doesn't wanna leave the woods. I think...maybe not bein' /restricted/ in 'is movements makes 'im feel better. I'd offered t'see if maybe he could stay at the boathouse an' even that...he just wanted t'stay outside." A heavy sigh answers Shane's revelation, his shoulders sagging. "Oughtta consult a lawyer before anythin'. Find out what the options are. What the best courses of action are from a legal standpoint. Present 'em to 'im. This is so incredibly unfair. The last thing he needs is bein'...locked up again. He can't help...gettin' /shot/ at." A hint of smile returns at the kisses, at the paint streaks. His head turns one way, then the other. "M'I all pretty now, then?" "Got proper /cold/ a night back too, m'jus' worried he's gonna -- okay no, no frettin', he's tough." Jax grimaces, teeth clicking briefly against one of his lip rings. "Should talk t'the Professor about if he knows a good -- I mean, the lawyers we done had before was --" He shudders, expression shifting briefly into a scowl. It doesn't last, lips tugged back upwards a moment later as he dots a light kiss to the tip of Micah's nose. "Honey-honey, you're /always/ gorgeous. But now you're -- /brighter/." He moves aside to pick up a roller of his own, dipping it into the tray so he can get started. "Yeah, you spend enough time locked up and sometimes you just don't want to be -- plus jeez there's not even many places indoors where he /can/ stretch that's gotta be a fucking pain and a half. -- Did his wings look strange to you? They were strange." Shane takes a step back, lifting his hands to frame Micah's face between his thumbs and forefingers. "Yeah no you're fucking hot. And I mean me, I usually stick with just a little eyeliner but you're kind of rocking the – green." "He can take care of 'imself. Though...wouldn't hurt t'see if maybe he'd accept a sleepin' bag or somethin'. 'Stead of wanderin' 'round in just shorts an' workin' on 'is Mountain Man hair." Micah's shoulders tense at the talk of the lawyers that were referred to them through Sublime. "No. None of those people again. We'll have t'ask 'round. Maybe find somebody like Ms. Basil was. Who actually /cares/ 'bout mutant rights." He dips his roller to start working on the wall, pausing to get a little paint on his index and middle fingers. "What, y'never gone green before? Green an' blue look so /nice/ t'gether," he opines as he brushes a little paint across Shane's nose. "See? S'a good match. Well-planned if you're gonna be here a lot." "He does kinda rock the scruffy look but he's moved from scruff to full-on shag now. -- Strange like what strange? They looked, um. Fuzzy. I haven't," Jackson admits with a small bow of his head and a guilty expression, "spent as much time with him yet as I maybe -- should. I just -- bring him food and -- an' I should prob'ly --" He swallows, cheeks flushing as he focuses rather intently on paint-rolling the wall. He giggles, though, turning to glance at Shane's new green streaks. "Not gonna lie, I /did/ want to pick a colour that wouldn't /clash/ with the owner here." "Strange like they don't /fit/ him right. I think they're bigger. He moves them funny like it's not -- comfortable. And --" Shane glances over towards Jax, and then back to his wall. "I think he understands, Pa." His nose twitches, grin stretching wide at the paint-brushing before he finally goes to pick up a roller of his own and get started in a new patch of wall on Micah's other side. "S'like finding a fucking unicorn. Nearly all of them are just goddamn faking it so they can -- do /some/ new horrible." Even with the lengthy handle he has to stretch up onto his toes as he works, finally caving and just dragging Jax's stepladder over. "You could've painted this place fucking. Magenta with green and yellow stripes and I would've found a way to rock it." Micah sets roller to wall and gets to /work/ on this painting thing. "I think tryin' t'force it 'fore you're ready'll do more harm than good, honey. He feels awful 'bout what happened an' he'll understand if y'keep your distance a little, but. I think it'd...be worse if he feels like you're scared of 'im or somethin' when you're 'round 'im? An' I can be with you, too. If it helps. /When/ you're ready." He nods at Shane's assessment. "They're a bit bigger, yeah. But they was reconstructed by a person as learned 'bout wings from books an' based on Rasa modellin' as best ze could. S'no wonder they ain't completely the same as they was. But he'll figure 'em. It'll just take some time. /Flyin'/ might take some more work, too." He chuckles as he paints, glancing over at Shane. "S'right, they kinda look good in /everythin'/." "I do miss him." Jax's voice has dropped to a soft whisper, gaze just focused ahead on his painting. "I miss him so much. I just --" He pulls in a quick breath, shaking his head with a sudden smile. "Ohgosh. I coulda painted this place magenta with stripes? You shoulda said earlier we'd be workin' off a /whole/ different set'a instructions now." "Need time? You're allowed to take it. He --" Shane just waves at Micah with his explanation. Yes, /that/. "/Pff/." En route back to the tray to re-paint his brush he stops to /bap/ Jax lightly right on the top of the head. With his paintroller. "/No/. I'm just gonna paint and not talk before you get any /ideas/." "We know /telepaths/, also. Might could be we need t'/vet/ whoever we're gonna be workin' with on Dusk's current...issue. 'Cause we can't have no more /fake/ help." Micah shivers, his paint rolling perhaps occurring with a bit more force than is entirely necessary. "Ugh. Thanks for not mentionin' anythin' of the kind 'til after we bought the paint already, Shane. I think we should be /relatively/ safe now." He giggles at the paint stripe on Jax's head. "Y'sure y'wanna get the same ink y'had before? 'Cause Shane's got some good ideas, too, looks like," he teases. "M'sure Hive'd be glad t'help. But the school might know someone trustworthy already." Jax's hand lifts reflexively to the top of his head after this bapping, which just leaves his palm smeared with green. Grinning, he leans in to smoosh a bright green handprint onto Micah's arm. "He lets me paint this place up in /any/ colours I like an' I'll let him choose my ink," he answers with a laugh. "I'll give you free rein on the ceiling," Shane bargains cheerfully, "if I get to pick /one/ tattoo." His grin has returned, bright and toothy. His gills open briefly, a slower contented ripple before he turns back to painting in earnest. "Hmm...I'm lettin' y'design ink t'go on me, do I get somethin' outta this bargainin' game, too?" Micah's eyebrows lift inquisitively. "S'long as it's somethin' /good/, Shane. I think gets to be a caveat 'fore he takes y'up on that." "Don't know, d'you got a corner'a our world y'really want t'leave your mark on?" Jax dips his roller again, returning to the wall to continue his painting. "Cuz /you/ can totally pick ink for me too if y'like." His head tips back up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. Then over to consider Shane a looong moment. "Deal." "You can design Pa a cyborg eye. Though," Shane says lightly, "ink is probably better. Only now --" His eyes flit up to Jax's collar and then back to the wall with a small hum of laughter. "I'm totally just going to be thinking of it like /branding/ your property. Except probably way prettier." "Hm, yeah, ink is better." Micah just looks thoughtful for a time as he continues rolling bright green onto the wall. "Y'were talkin' 'bout new ink y'needed. The day y'proposed. What was that? 'Cause that might maybe what I pick. S'it too cheesy t'do somethin' that matches? I mean...not necessarily gettin' the same /thing/, but thematically. Thing is, /you're/ very much the artist here..." "Then I'll do a design on whatever kinda /things/ y'all want t'pick," Jax offers easily. "But no y'can't pick somethin' I was gonna pick /anyway/ s'gotta be new. Thematic's alright though." His cheeks flush dark at the mention of branding, hand lifting to touch the un-painty backs of his knuckles against his collar. His smile curls /just/ a little wider, warm and pleased. "I'll come back an' do the ceilin' later this week. S'gonna be a /riot/. Don't say y'weren't forewarned." "I trust you." Shane just shrugs at this, the laughter in his voice undimmed. "Besides. For here? A riot's kind of /appropriate/."