ArchivedLogs:See Citation

See Citation
Dramatis Personae Jax, Melinda, Steve	2015-12-29 "{Do you want to go punch the government for us?}"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Commonhaus - Lower East Side
Accessible to all residents of the Commons via electronic keycard, this three-story building holds a number of facilities freely available for the shared use of all Commons residents. The stone-floored foyer is high ceilinged -- balconies on the two upper floors look down into this entrance, leaving just the wide skylit ceiling three stories up to trickle light down through the whole of the house. Through wide wood-and-glass doors the spacious dining area is visible on the left; on the right, heavier doors beside the elevator lead to the similarly large kitchens. There are four single-user toilets on this floor, two apiece by the foyer and the dining room. Though a wide staircase runs all the way up, there is also an elevator tucked to one side. For the adventurous, though, there's another way up through the house -- through the center of the house where the balconies look down, an enormous climbing structure has been erected, solid wood platforms softened with carpeting, held together with strong spiderwebbed steel cables. Interlaced in an intricate maze that spirals up through the whole of the house and down to the basement, it provides a crazily winding path to duck and wriggle and worm through, with exits -- if you can /find/ them -- dispensed out onto each upper balcony and into the basement below. It's finally come wintertime, a blast of brisk cold air flooding into the foyer when the front door opens. Jax isn't entirely dressed for it -- he's in the same canvas jacket he's been wearing through most of the past weeks, over a long-sleeved grey tee, red and black tee shirt layered on top of it, black jeans with an overabundance of pockets and zippers and straps, a very (very!) gleamy metallic-rainbowy pair of sneakers. He's kind of shivery, fingers drumming restless against the flap of his messenger bag as he beelines for the mail nook at the side of the lobby, tapping his key to open up his box and extract a small sheaf of mail. He carts it off towards the climbing structure, leaning absently against one of its thick steel cables to leaf through it. Steve has been here for a while, perched up on a platform of the climbing structure half-way to the second storey. He is folded rather small for a man of his stature, legs crossed, shoulders and head hunched over his sketch pad. He wears a purple shirt about a size too small for him, 'Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty' scrawled across the chest in white letters that do not follow the faint notebook lines behind them, and much-mended blue jeans. There are white bandages wrapped around his left upper arm, and his shield leans against one of the cables that supports the platform on which he sits. He looks up from his drawing when his neighbors enter. "{Hello,}" he calls down to them in Spanish. Tucks the pencil behind one ear. Closes the sketchbook. Takes up his shield and jumps down to the main level, landing easily and straightening up. Jax has tucked two of his envelopes into his messenger bag; there are some advertisement flyers that he pins under his arm, likely due straight for the recycling bin. One envelope, though, he stops to frown at and open up. The air around him shivers and darkens as he reads it. "-- Oh, /no/." It's quiet and dismayed, eyebrows furrowing and his shoulders slumping as he sinks down to thunk heavily onto one of the platforms of the tower. His eye lifts -- skipping past Steve and his sudden landing over to Mel. The paper in her hand. He holds his own up, his brows lifting in questioning. Melinda is busy staring at that piece of paper when Steve lands in between herself and Jax. She jumps a little, despite his polite manner of calling attention to himself first. She scowls at him a moment later, her heart racing, but then she starts to calm down - well, a little. She looks over at Jax and frowns deeper. "You too?" Her shoulders slump and her arms hang at her sides. "Hell." She tries to offer a small smile to Steve, but it is weak and unhappy. Steve blinks. Looks from Mel to Jax, then back. Slowly hooks the shield back onto the harness on his back. "{Sorry for disturbing you,}" he says, "{and for the bad news. Is there anything I can do to help -- including leaving you in peace?}" The last phrase is just hard-translated from English and sounds vaguely silly in his Italian-accented Spanish. "{Me too.}" Jax scrubs a hand over his face, the rippling shadows around him fading. His fingers clench, crumpling at the edge of the paper he holds as his hand drops to his lap. His eye scrunches shut, and then opens again together with a brittle-bright grin. "{I don't know. Do you want to go punch the government for us?}" Chipper! Cheerful! So hopeful. "{Or you don't happen to have a spare few thousand dollars laying around by any chance.}" Melinda just turns and hands her piece of paper to Steve. It does contain the last four digits of her social security number and it has her name and address, but for the most part it is a very sterile and harsh citation for not being registered under the Mutant Registration Act. The sum demanded in the next thirty days is fifteen hundred dollars. She grimaces and shuffles over to where Jax is sitting and lowers herself to rest next to him, her head tilting to rest on his shoulder. "{Terrible timing. No work for weeks - now this. The government really hate mutants.}" "{I have wanted to punch the government, but...busy with other things.}" Steve peruses the citation kind of slowly, his frown deepening. "{I don't think it would help to lift your fines even if I did. But I do have some money. Which the government has been paying me. And which I have not used because I am still living here no rent.}" He finally walks over to Melinda, returning the paper to her. "{This registration thing is...}" He grits his teeth, searching for a word, settling a few seconds later, somewhat inadequately, on, "{...bad. They not told /me/ to register yet, but it require /everyone/, right?}" Jax lifts his arm, curling it around Mel's shoulders when she settles next to him. He presses his cheek to the top of her head, looking down at his own nearly identical citation with a slow blanking of his expression. "{Just really bad timing, like Mel says. Things have been so rough for weeks. And with our /house/ -- and -- everything, this is just --}" He gives a small shake of his head. "{Bad is one word for it. This registration thing is terrifying. And awful. Yes. Everyone required to register. I've been trying to get people to resist -- refuse -- I'm afraid it may be a losing fight.}" "{They told you not to register?}" Melinda is displeased by this, her lips pursing further, her brows quite knit. "{That's ridiculous. How can they tell anyone /not to/}" She inhales sharply and huffs, turning her head a little, sticking close to Jax and wrapping her arm around his back. "{Don't know. Want to set an example for my daughter, but also feel I could support her better if I didn't have these things coming in. Hive said he'd help me,}" she looks to Jax again, her expression softening. "{But I don't know how... to ask. I mean, I'm sure he'll just read it off me by accident. He may already know.}" But things are concerning now that he's not dying. Does he have a million medical bills to pay? Who else is supporting. Has he been working, what with his off and on comatose state? Everything is uncertainty and questions. "{I'm sorry, Steve. I don't mean to ignore your offer. I just... don't know you well yet.}" "{No, no, they not told me to -- not register.}" Steve waves his hands in front of him, frowning now perhaps as much for struggling with the language as anything else. "{They not told me /anything/ about this. I find out on my own. Maybe they register me without telling, I don't know.}" He looks up at the towering height of the climb sculpture, eyes flicking from niche to niche, thoughtful. "{Resist this kind of thing. Important, yes. But hard, for many.}" Then, pausing a beat, nods at Melinda. "{I not mean to put you...on spot, personally.}" "{I can never tell what he knows already. Sometimes I think he knows everything and sometimes I think it's --}" Jax doesn't finish this thought, puffing out a quick breath. "{He'll probably help.}" He scuffs his palm against his chin, leaving the citation resting on his knees. "{Obviously,}" he says lightly, "{we just have to overturn registration before Tola's old enough for it to matter.}" He squints up at Steve, shaking his head. "{They don't register you without telling unless you get arrested. And yes, it's -- hard. For...}" His lips press together and he forges ahead more /determinedly/: "{Hard, but /important/. This is just the first step to --}" The curl of shadow twists back around him. "{... everything.}" "{Oh. That's easy.}" Melinda laughs softly, shaking her head a little. The weariness is evident in her posture. "{Important. Very important. Bah. Maybe I will have a bake sale. Want to make cookies with me for fee money?}" She gets to her feet and presses a little kiss to Jax's head before heading back over to Steve. "{I'm a mother. Hard things are put on me. Don't worry so much. There are many struggles to fight.}" Steve looks back down at Jax and Mel. Doesn't speak for a while, though he manages a small smile at the suggestion of a bake sale. "{I probably no help to bake cookies, but fighting I can do. Not only with punching.}" His free hand drifts to touch the slightly rolled-up edge of the bandage on his arm, the gesture perhaps not entirely conscious. "{I will not register,}" he says at last, firmly, "{even if they get around to send me...}" He nods at the citations. "{...those.}" "{You could sell the cookies. We'll bake them in the shape of your shield. I bet people would buy cookies from you. And if they don't,}" Jax says this VERY EARNESTLY, "{then you punch them.}" He squeezes Mel briefly tighter before she gets up. The citation, he folds neatly, tucking it back into its envelope. "{They're only going to make a whole lot of trouble for you if you don't.}" "{I should go. Daughter waiting. Should be asleep soon. Ridiculous winter hours.}" Melinda raises a hand and waves to the two men. "{There will be cookies.}"