ArchivedLogs:Shane Is Helpful!
| Shane Is Helpful! | |
|---|---|
A very special brand of helpful. | |
| Dramatis Personae | 17 June 2013 Micah has some birthday-related questions...and gets /way/ more answers than he was looking for. >_> |
| Location
<NYC> 305 {Teenhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village | |
This apartment is 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 small living room. 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. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom. Furnishings are more in line with broke students than established adults. Cast-off couches and chairs provide places to sit, and the walls have been decorated in a frequently-changed street art style that combines bright, layered colors with exaggerated proportions and abstract shapes. Hello, EVENINGTIME. Sebastian has not yet returned from work, having kind of a LOT to prepare for tomorrow. Shane /has/, having a pretty predictable shift job that does not pay him nearly so much! But affords him a lot more Free Time. He is currently /spending/ his Free Time tucked away into his room. There is music playing! Violin music. Bach's Partita No. 2 in D minor. The strains come through the door, audible even out in the hallway. Possibly audible in Jax's apartment, too! It's right next door. There is a Micah knocking at the door! There was no warning of impending Micahs, so hopefully, it can be heard over /musics/. He is wearing his black Reading Rainbow-dash T-shirt over appropriately rainbow-patched jeans. His weight rolls from his heels to toes and back again as he rocks on his feet rather than stand still, waiting for a response. Shane, thankfully, has exceedingly keen hearing. Less thankfully he also has zero consideration for people waiting at the door! Whoops. He keeps playing. Moving from corrente to sarabanda. Eyes closed. Thankfully, he is not /alone/ in the apartment even if he is alone in his room; the door /is/ answered, rather promptly! By a tall slim teenager with dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail, dressed sharp in silver-edged blue tunic and paler trousers. Daiki's presence comes as it always does with a soft wash of magnetism, a subtle thread of something /warmer/ that does not lend /cheer/ so much as it lends a warm inclination to like /him/. "Micah-san." His smile is small. He steps back, enough to allow Micah inside. "Can I help you?" “Ohhi, Daiki. Is Shane in?” Micah slips through the door as Daiki moves back to allow this. “I needed to talk to him about somethin’, but it’s not wildly important if he’s busy.” Per Jackson’s explicit instructions, he does not give in to the urge to hug Daiki. Though he pretty much usually wants to hug everyone. Oh well. "Shane is in his bedroom." Daiki gestures towards the bedroom door, closing their own apartment door behind Micah. "I do not think he would mind the interruption." He takes a step back, further into the living room. "Can I get you something to drink? Or -- eat?" It's almost just like being in Jax's apartment, really! But with more quiet, less bounce. The same habitual-polite hospitality. “Ohno, that’s fine, I just came from next door, an’ pretty much there’s always some kinda food-thing floatin’ around, so… Thanks, but y’all ain’t gotta worry about waitin’ on me,” Micah assures with a grin. “You sure he won’t mind?” A thumb gestures in the general direction of the closed door before he moves to knock on it, as well. "I am sure." Coming from Daiki it feels uncontestable! He watches Micah a moment, then withdraws to his own room. The music continues from inside a few measures after the knock, but then it quiets. Shane pulls the door open a moment later, peering out with kind of /suspicious/ narrowed eyes that relax again when he sees Micah. His violin and bow are resting on -- the floor, actually, his room is entirely devoid of any furniture currently except a blue kiddie pool in the middle of the floor. One half of the room has a couple boxes neatly lined against the wall; the other is strewn with scattered clothing, books, a laptop, a tacklebox, a guitar case, Magic cards. Shane's dressed in just grey cargo shorts, no shirt. "-- Hi," he sounds surprised, and then immediately /concerned/: "-- what happened." Micah is smiling warmly when the door opens! This is not an expression to spark concern. "Oh, hon, ain't nothin' /happened/. I just came t'talk to you. Ain't that allowed? Everybody's fine," he adds reassuringly. "Just wanted to ask some questions if I ain't interruptin' any?" He glances around the near-empty room. "Why don't y'all bring some of the furniture from your room over? Ain't like you're usin' it /there/." "Is Pa -- what's --" Shane just looks /confused/ at the thought that there is no bad news being delivered. He steps back with brow still furrowed, waving to indicate Micah can come in. "I have furniture," he says, puzzled, looking towards the pool. "What -- what's up?" "Everybody's fine," Micah reiterates as he moves into the room. He shrugs at Shane's assurance of furniture. Valid point. "Honest. I just came to check if there's anythin' special y'all usually do for Jax's birthday. Nothin' sinister goin' on. 'Least not for the moment." His lopsided grin serves to emphasize the point as Micah leans against the wall beside the door. Shane frowns at Micah, but it's slowly dissipating the longer Micah continues doggedly not telling him anything terrible. Eventually he stoops, slowly picking up his violin again and seating himself on one of the boxes. "Pa's -- birthday." His brows knit together. "That's Friday. Classes'll be starting again. Um. Anything special /we/ do or anything special /you/ should do?" “That y’all do in general. I’m tryin’ not to step on any toes with plannin’. Admittedly kind of late plannin’. There’s been…” Micah chews at his lower lip for a moment. Shane knows very well what there’s been. No need to bring any of it up again. In fact, he makes a point of brightening his expression to match the talk of /happy/ occasions. “Anyhow. Late plannin’. Don’t wanna mess up any traditions.” "We don't have traditions. Last year we went rock climbing. I --" Shane frowns again, and rests the violin on his knee. "-- guess you can't, uh. /Can/ you?" His tone slides quick from apologetic to /curious/. "-- But no, we don't have any traditions. If you want to plan something you can plan away I kind of burned out my planning yesterday." "It would...not be easy, no. Wouldn't be a good idea to even try with the foot I usually use. Would have issues with loading, leverage, proprioception... They do make specific prosthetic foot attachments for rock climbing. They're kinda short for ease of control, stiffer, use a pyramid adapter for mounting..." Micah seems to realise that this is probably more information than Shane was looking for, eventually. "In short, not without a lot of gear an' prob'ly a lot of trainin' in safe, indoor environments first." He chuckles softly. "Yeah, ya'll did do a whole /heap/ of plannin'. Like I said, just wanted to make sure I didn't mess up anythin'. If y'all don't have somethin' you /usually/ do, then I can just work from scratch without worryin'." "There's some pretty neat indoor gyms around here if you -- /um/ I mean, maybe you don't even want to -- sorry." Shane rubs at the back of his neck, shaking his head quickly. "What's proprioception?" If he's bothered by the overexplanation it doesn't show, just a quick curious look given at this answer. "That sounds like -- knowing. Yourself." "I dunno...maybe. It's not somethin' I'd ever really /thought/ of before," Micah admits with a snort of laughter. "That's actually a good breakdown of the word itself. It's pretty much...a lot of the sensation that doesn't get included in a traditional 'Five Senses' list. It's how you have awareness of your body in space, how it moves. Joint position, muscle tension, muscle memory. For example, the difficulty for climbin' would be in tellin' where your /foot/ is an' what it's doin' without /lookin'/ at it." "Oh! Oh -- yeah. I -- guess that would be a lot -- different if." Shane still frowns, but he's moved entirely squarely into 'curious' territory, now. "How /do/ you know? I mean, does your brain think about that leg," he gestures to ROBOLEG, "differently?" And then, equally curious: "What /did/ you have planned? It'll -- I mean, going out in public has been kind of /really/ shitty for him lately so going /out/ somewhere's probably -- limited." “It…depends a bit. Folks as had amputations late in life an’ folks as are born with ‘em map differently,” Micah gestures with an open hand at his /skull/ to clarify that he means brain mapping, specifically. “But, yeah, even folks as have ‘em later will show changes over time. S’part of the beauty of neuroplasticity.” He rests the hand back on the wall, drumming his fingers for a second. “I was thinkin’…prob’ly somethin’ quiet? It’s been…so much crazy an’ fuss and bustle lately. S’also gotta be sneaked in between work schedules an’… I didn’t get far, honestly, on account of I didn’t know…” All that stuff. That he just asked about. "Quiet's probably good. You could make him dinner he's always feeding /everyone/. Or cupcakes." Shane shrugs, his fingers drumming lightly against the neck of his violin. And, just as seriously, "You should beat him." “Dinner-food I had actually been thinkin’ of. Bakin’ is…not…somethin’ that I would do for someone that I /like/,” Micah jokes with a crinkle of his nose to express his opinion of his own baking abilities. “’Specially not tryin’ vegan bakin’ for the first time, that’s like t’be /disastrous/.” Micah has learned not to be surprised by much that Shane says. Not being surprised doesn’t help him to not turn impressively red. “Noted,” he finally replies with a little nod, for lack of an…anything else. "You could ask Liam," Shane suggests, "He's -- not vegan but their /house/ is because Ryan and Horus and anyway I guess it's easier to keep everything kosher if they're vegan already. /Anyway/ he's a good baker. Not -- as good as Pa but good." Shane leans back against the wall, drawing one leg up to his chest, heel tucked onto the edge of the box. "What?" he says, to Micah's sudden /red/, "I mean, with /everything/ going on when was the last time you guys even boned? You /both/ could probably use some." His hand waves vaguely. "Stress relief." "That or Hanna. Could sit an' come up with somethin' real creative-like with her, prob'ly," Micah sounds rather pleased with this prospect. Fun to be had! In the meantime, Shane is busy commenting on the blushing. Which, as a matter of course, deepens. Straight scarlet. "I...it takes about nothin'. I change colours. You know this about me already," he asserts, giggling. "But also, not somethin' I should be discussin'." He pops back to the original topic. "Gives me a blank slate t'work from, though. Thanks for lettin' me check." "Who's Hanna?" Shane asks, in some confusion, and then, "-- why not discussing?" Just as confused. “Oh, Hanna owns a bakery. Always has a few super-good vegan treats around, so I’m sure she could make somethin’ to order. But she also decorates things up real colourful.” Micah quirks an eyebrow at the second question. “I tend to presume that I’m not s’posed to discuss someone’s sex life unless they’ve explicitly told me otherwise. It’s generally considered private information. Also…you’re Jax’s kid. Kinda makes it a step more inappropriate.” "He likes anything with peach in it," Shane suggests, "or hazelnut and coffee together." He lifts his violin almost unthinkingly, tucking it back beneath his chin; in his other hand, his bow jiggles up and down. "That's kind of -- dumb, I mean, we pretty much talk about everything. You wanted to figure out what he'd like for his birthday!" He lifts the bow. Points it. Towards Micah's crotch. "An' chocolate...an' ginger..." Micah grins broadly. "I got no shortage of food options with him, honestly. 'Specially not dessert-things." Shane might not be /trying/ to make the Worst Blushing happen, but he is doing a damned good job /anyhow/. "It's...just...expectations that people tend t'have. Culturally speakin'. That it's rude to break with those expectations without /permission/. S'all." He actually has to clear his throat before speaking again. "Point of interest, I /actually/ asked if there was somethin' that y'all usually /did/. Pretty sure. That...wouldn't be on the list." Probably he's actually trying not to laugh at this point. "How do you know?" Shane challenges with a crooked curl of smile. It fades soon, though. "-- Though actually, my /last/ dad --" His brow creases, and he lifts the bow to put it to his violin. But drops it again with a sudden lighting of his eyes to dig his phone out of his pocket. Busily send a TEXT. "Culturally speaking people seem to kind of have a /lot/ of stupid expectations, I mean, you don't -- really follow a lot of them! Like. The part where you're dating a dude. Who likes you to beat him. And you're both OK fucking other people. How do you decide /which/ cultural expectations to follow?" That question finally pushes it...Micah can't help laughing, albeit quietly. Though Shane's brow-furrow is slightly concerning, and quiets him again. "Is somethin' wrong?" He's not pushing, just leaving the door open if talking needs to happen. "That was the point about /permission/, hon. Wouldn't be doin' none of those things without it. Same applies." Shane's phone is buzzing merrily, and he answers the texts with rapid fingerswipes across his screen. He gives a quiet snort at the question. "Micah, what /isn't/ wrong right now?" He glances up, tipping the phone to Micah (TRIUMPHANTLY!) to show him the screen.
“I meant, specifically, you looked upset just then,” Micah explains, his own brow furrowing slightly. He takes a minute to read the screen…reddening /again/. “Okay, fair. Though that was a /really loose/ definition of relevant.” His fingers scrub through his hair distractedly. "Was /not/ it was /totally relevant/. You were asking about his /birthday/," Shane's tone is kind of /patient/ now. Sort of like he is giving a /lesson/. "It's /very relevant/ to his birthday I don't think there is anything he'd like more than if you tied him up and beat the -- I guess maybe, OK, there's /some/ things he might like more but they're mostly things you could combine? Like ordering him around. Hey!" Now his eyes light again. "I mean how much /money/ were you willing to drop on this birthday venture cuz Desi says that Luci's got a whole /dungeon/ in his basement." Micah /looks/ like he is going to say things a few times, but then stops. Maybe giving up on attempting to convince Shane of anything. "Y'know, I don't doubt that for a second. But...no. Also I'm not sure I've /ever/ had enough expendable income around to hire Lucien." At least...we are back to seeming amused. "I guess you'll just have to beat him without a -- /Oh/! Sebastian could lend you some. /Micah/, did he tell you he's rich now?" This might be an exaggeration, but Shane sounds pretty earnest about it. "You need to help us figure out a way to get Pa money without him knowing, OK?" This series of revelations earns a lifting of /both/ of Micah’s eyebrows. “Did ‘Bastian rob a bank or somethin’?” Seriously. "He's dating Tony Stark now," Shane answers. Maybe a little more amused than his previous earnestness. But the amusement fades, /sharply/, his jaw tensing instead. "-- Have you, um, not. Talked to Pa yet about --" His frown is creeping back onto his face. “He…is?” Micah’s expression is the very Platonic form of Confusion now. “About…what?” "Stark took him out to dinner the other night," Shane manages to sound casual about this! Except he's still frowning. "He's having a press conference. Tomorrow. Pa's kind of stressed about it. Little bit." On 'little bit' he opens his arms out wiiiiide in indication, violin still in one hand and bow in the other. “Okay. /What/ is he havin’ a press conference /about/? I’ll have to…talk t’him…when I go back.” Micah points at the wall, as if he’s just going to phase /though/ it when it is time to go. "All the shit going on. In the city. Pa and Io are speaking at it, too," Shane explains. "Bastian went to dinner with Stark and convinced him to give money. For the clinic. But he's -- announcing it at the press conference tomorrow." He tucks the violin back beneath his chin, and his eyes shift away from Micah, turned across to the wall now when he continues. "-- I mean, /all/ the shit going on. Like. With the cops and everything. Since -- there's video now of." His jaw tightens. "Huh. Good on 'Bastian," Micah muses. "I guess they're gonna start bein' loud." He almost sounds like he's talking to himself. His gaze follows Shane's turning away. "We all still love you, Shane. You know that, right?" For this he is speaking louder, yet somehow more gently. His weight shifts away from the wall and he even takes a step forward before reconsidering...not wanting to crowd. Shane glances up, just a small quick shift of his head towards Micah at that step of movement. His gaze shifts back to the wall when it stops. "Seems like the right time to be loud. Everyone else is." He puts his bow to the strings, but unlike the melody earlier this time all he draws out of his instrument is a shaky long whine of sound. "It's going to be ugly." Micah’s feet continue along their previous path, such that he can place a reassuring hand on Shane’s back, between the shoulder blades. “It’s already ugly. Are you gonna be okay…with this?” Shane closes his eyes, the shift of his posture just small, pressing faintly back against that touch. This time he does play -- only a couple measures before the music trails off again. All down his sides and at the sides of his neck, his gills flutter rapidly. "'course I am," he answers with a quick shrug, "/someone's/ gotta tell everyone what those bastards did." “Just wanted t’make sure /somebody/ asked you. It’s a lot…for you. On /top/ of a lot.” Micah moves to press Shane into a hug, but doesn’t quite complete the motion while Shane’s arms are full of violin. “Y’gotta breathe through your /face/ while you’re dry, kiddo,” he offers with a little smile. "Pa asked me," Shane says this just the slightest bit /defensively/ of Jax, a small tremble in his posture. His words quiet, gills still fluttering. "-- I can't," he finally answers, smaller and sounding pretty fluttery as well. "Breathe." He lowers the violin back to his lap. “Just checkin’, hon. I wasn’t there.” Micah’s brow furrows again. Worry-mode. “What helps…the breathin’ thing?” "Sorry," is still hitched out through only intermittent-breaths. "I just. People get on his case. A lot. About us. He's not. Very. Conventional." Shane drops his head back to the wall behind him. His teeth bare kind of abruptly in a smile. "I'm fine. Stop worrying. You're here. Because /birthday/. Not because. fretting." “No, it’s okay,” Micah dismisses the apology with a wave of his free hand. “Unconventional is good, usually.” He frowns, not so much at Shane as at his gills. “You’re not fine, it’s not that easy t’stop me worryin’, an’ y’answered my question about birthdays /forever/ ago. It’ll be faster just t’tell me how t’help.” "/Frithrah/ you're. Just. Like Pa." Shane says this with a /grin/ directed up at the ceiling. He sets the violin down in his lap and his hand lifts, moving Micah's hand from his back to the fluttering gills at his side. "That isn't the first time I've heard that," Micah admits, chuckling again. "Just press?" He moves his other hand to mirror the motion along Shane's opposite flank. Shane closes his eyes, his hands lifting to push his own palms against the gills at his neck. There's quiet, for a stretch, the fluttering slowly calming until his gills just lie flat beneath Micah's hands. "I guess /he's/ just like /you/, you're older," he finally says, steady once more. “You knew him first by a /long/ stretch, so it makes sense for you t’think the other way ‘round.” Micah’s mouth contorts into a wry sort of grin. “Besides, I’m ancient, so there’s really no way for Jax to compete.” He keeps his hands in place awhile longer, even though the gills seem to have stilled, just in case. "Only /kind of/ ancient, you're still hot as fuck," Shane cracks his eyes open again to answer. His hands drop from his neck; one to his lap, one to rest over Micah's. "But you're fucked up, you /look/ like you're still in high school except then you're like a freaking doctor so that means ten million years of school behind you. It's /confusing/." Oh, hello, blushing! You thought you were done for the night? No such luck. "I'm not a doctor. Just got a Master's. 'Bout six years, after high school," Micah explains. He ponders a moment, whether or not to ruin a running gag. But decides it can probably run anyhow, if it wants to. "Twenty-six. By the way." "Really?" Shane /scrutinizes/ Micah's face suspiciously. "... Only /kind of/ ancient," he still concludes. "That probably means it's bad to want to kiss you, right?" It sounds -- like a sort of /academic/ question, he's leaning back against the wall once more with his eyes turning up towards the ceiling. "I'm never really sure, all those rules seem kind of arbitrary." His other hand falls off of Micah's to his lap now, too. "Will you teach me to drive?" "Ain't nothin' bad about wantin' things. Sometimes, it can be bad to /act/ on wantin' 'em." Micah sighs at the mention of arbitrary rules. "Usually...s'got more t'do with what's legal an' what's takin' advantage an' what someone's maturity level is. So...sorta arbitrary is a faster-an'-easier way t'make rules. But you're right." He hums softly at the last question. "If you got an actual /car/ t'learn in, and Jax says it's okay? Sure. Absolutely not tryin' to teach you in a huge van with decreased visibility, though." Shane's nose wrinkles at this (TOTALLY ARBITRARY!) restrictions on driving. But then he brightens! "I'll take Ryan's." It's only like a hundred grand he PROBABLY won't mind right? For a moment the gills on his neck quiver again. "/Everything/ seems kind of arbitrary when it comes to people-rules. There should be a handbook. On being human. We're not great at it. Because /dumb/." “Ohgosh, no, I’ll talk to Jax an’ we’ll find some /less ridiculously expensive/ car for y’all t’practice with. Goodness.” Micah just chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re doin’ fine. Nobody /really/ gets customs they didn’t grow up with, not completely.” He pulls Shane in for another hug. “I’m gonna let you get back t’your playin’, ‘cause I’ve been interruptin’ long enough. Also, I get the feelin’ Jax is prob’ly over there scrubbin’ somethin’ like mad that’s already clean an’ /maybe/ I prob’ly need to back him down out of Red Alert fret mode. Prob’ly.” "Oh --" Shane leans into the hug; for a moment his face falls when Micah mentions leaving but his smile returns fierce and determinedly bright when he sits back again. "Right. Yeah. You should probably. He's probably. Right." He tucks the violin back beneath his chin. "You could," he suggests very seriously, "just order him to stop." “That works sometimes,” Micah acknowledges. He tilts his head slightly as he observes Shane’s changes in expression. “Y’know y’can still drop by. Pretty much whenever? Don’t matter that you moved over here.” Just a casual observation! He offers a little wave as he heads for the door. “G’night, hon.” "G'night," Shane answers lightly. He sets his bow back to the strings, the sound of Bach picking back up again as Micah heads out. | |
