ArchivedLogs:Spacesuits Are Cool

Spacesuits Are Cool
Well, they are.
Dramatis Personae Corey, Micah	22 April 2014 Micah can't keep the lunch conversation off of healing abilities. >_> (Part of the Perfectus TP.)
Location <NYC> Dogtown - Midtown East
A small nook of a joint in Midtown, Dogtown is decorated with little thought to class or style. Cheerful, with black and white tiled flooring, bright red tables, bright yellow walls, menus plastered on peeling sheets over the counter, the walls are papered in an assortment of photographs -- smiling patrons who hold records for successfully eating six or more hot dogs in one one-hour sitting. The menu here is simple and solid -- hot dogs both beef or vegan with a huge array of toppings, fries, slaw, chili. It's not haute cuisine but the dogs are good enough to draw large crowds, especially late at night. Lunchtime in the city can be busy, especially when you're just trying to get away from a job and move along to another duty. Of course some of these people are businessmen, others are far less fanciful. Still it was a place somewhat away from the stresses that either have to deal with, so Corey has sent a text to Micah asking if he would meet him for a hot dog. Having just arrived himself slightly after the primary lunch rush, Corey is wearing a black polo tee shirt, a pair of comfortable khakis and some sandals. He didn't want to eat before his friend arrives though, so he sets up beside the door out of the way and looks over the menu trying to figure out what precisely he will eat, or at least how many he will. Micah has a decidedly taking-a-break-from-work look about him, clad in his usual TARDIS blue polo shirt over a light blue long-sleeved tee and khakis, serviceable work shoes, and slightly mussed hair. The thin, stretchy charcoal grey gloves on his hands are a little out of season for the warm spring afternoon. He is travelling without his crutches again, these days, gait no longer awkward or uneven upon casual observation. Slipping in through the door, he rubbernecks a bit, anticipating that Corey made it there before he did. With a nod of recognition (found 'im!), he steps over to where Corey is making important decisions over his menu. "Afternoon, hon. S'good t'see you.../not/ with somebody halfway t'dyin' needin' attention at the same time." "Yeah, well, there are enough on the to be done list, but you can only eat hospital food or work food so long before you just want something coated in chili, bacon, and cheese," Corey says with a grin, offering a hand after noticing the gloves. "Besides, Kate's on shift still. So, we have plenty of time to discuss people who aren't injured or hurt." Moving back into line now and pulling Micah along, he lets out a sigh. "I am so glad the weather is finally improving. Course, I need to find a place that I can go swimming that doesn't require a fancy gym membership." "I'm sure there are... Dusk is. Not doin' very well. At the very least." Micah's lips press together with a long exhale of breath through his nose. "I'm also sure you're hearin' enough of that all the time. An' would much rather just get t'lunch." He takes Corey's hand when offered and allows himself to be led to the line. "Yeah, the cold had t'go. Got twice as many toes t'be cold anymore... Hm. Can't say as I know much on the swimmin' thing. Was never really my sport. The gym I go to has one, though...I don't know as they'd /let/ me use it now, ironically." "There isn't much I can do about him I'm afraid, but I could sit with him if you thought it might work. We just need the reference for Kate to try against, and we can give it a go though." Corey shrugs, having come to the point where he knows he can't do more than he can do. "And I'm glad that the situation worked out at least somewhat for you and Rasa. I know that it was kinda awkward there, but at least ze seems to be fine with the new one. And look at you, no crutches." He smiles, then snorts at the comment. "I used to swim all the time, but then pools and space were a bit more common in Florida. Though, yeah. I guess it woulda been a bit harder with your previous condition. Course most of the swimming I do is upper arm anyway." "No...they're actively havin' t'/keep/ 'im from healin'. His eyes an' his wings. It's...kind of horrible. Not lettin' 'im feed proper. An'...they /burned/ the wounds back open. You bein' there'd heal 'im faster, unfortunately." Micah chews at his lip, glancing up at the menu board. "Yeah, Rasa's doin' better. Physically, at least. The rest of it's kinda hard t'just 'get over', y'know? But. Me, too, I guess. Walkin' easier. Doesn't hurt as much." His eyes move back to look at one of his gloved hands. "Still awkward, though." Frowning, Corey turns to pat Micah's shoulder at the talk of Dusk. "We'll do what we can, but we don't want to make it worse. Unless you can find another healer?" he seems hopeful that it's possible, but doesn't think its very likely. "Awkward is better than other options at least." Pausing to put in the order, he steps out of the way to wait for it. Thankfully it doesn't take too long to actually make hotdogs and pour things on top of it, so once he has a tray full of food, he settles in at a table. Micah shakes his head at that. "Unfortunately, no. Could do t'have a whole /army/ of you guys, really." He gives a small smile at the shoulder-pat. "Thank you. Y'all are doin' so much, it's just. Dusk. An' Hive gettin' worse all the time. An' the kidnappings. An' the apartment explodin'. It's...startin' t'pile on pretty heavy." Pausing from the rather dour conversation topic, he puts in an order for a Burmese Mountain Dog with sweet potato fries and an iced tea. Gathering his own tray, he follows Corey to the table. "Apologies. Didn't mean t'gloom up the whole meal." "It's okay. We hear a lot of doom and gloom at the clinic, but also a lot of hopeful things. We're willing to help out, there's just only so much time and only so much understanding," Corey lets out a breath and takes a bite out of his dog. Taking a swig of water with it, he inhales and lets out a calming breath. "So tell me something happy. I have lists of all the unhappy to worry about, but people aren't talking about the Good. So, what goes? I know Melinda had her baby, but I haven't had the time to visit yet. And there are the people leaving the hospital nice and healed." Micah nods and tugs his gloves off so that he can pick at his fries. "Oh, the little one. She kinda did the early surprise thing, but took her sweet time in doin' it." A hint of a smile creeps in at this, at least. "Friday afternoon on into Saturday mornin'. Then Sinai kicked us out 'cause she's green, but the Clinic was willin' t'have 'em there for a bit, so that helped. I don't think they've picked a name for her yet, so we're still just callin' 'er Sprout." His free hand moves over a phone-shaped lump in his pocket. "Mel sent y'all any pictures? She's kinda ridiculous adorable." "Yeah I got a few of the pictures. Guess she takes after her dad in that," Corey hrms a moment with more hotdog in his face. "Still, new life, new hope for the world. Just means we have to work even harder to make sure all the young'uns have a nicer place." He chuckles a moment shaking his head. "Course I'm saying that like I'm an ancient and I'm closer to twenty than to thirty, so I can just claim being an old soul or something," he says with a smirk. "I got a few...dozen. In m'phone if y'wanna look at any more," Micah offers between nibbles of fry. "Shane is /so/ upset. He was...not even talkin' t'Mel anymore, really. Then...for her t'be a /visibly/ mutant person from birth." His head shakes slowly. "I know s'gonna be hard for her, but that's all the /more/ reason t'give her all the support she can get. An' babies are young t'/everybody/, not t'fret there, greybeard." Nodding, Corey accepts the phone carefully knowing Micah is avoiding touches. Flipping through the pictures, he smiles as he shoves fries in his face. "He will act however he chooses to act, so can't do much more than that." Shaking his head, he smiles slightly at the greybeard comment. "As long as the baby is healthy and has people around her who care for her, that is the first step. Unfortunately, the second is to make the rest of the world suck a bit less." Finishing off his water, he looks like he's about to stand to refill it. "If you know anybody with a space station, or their own planet, I'm open to ideas." Micah slides the phone along the table for Corey to pick up, since his gloves are off presently. Then busies said hands with getting his mushroomy-cheesy hotdog to his mouth for nommings. "He's a good kid. It's just been so hard for /him/. An' he's seein' it like Mel's /inflictin'/ the world on a little girl just like 'im. It ain't entirely irrational, t'be honest. S'just...baby's here. An' it ain't /her/ fault she's here. Should try t'make things better for her." He giggles at the mention of a space station. "Y'know, that's what Spence keeps askin' for the new house t'be? We're gonna paint 'is room up all spacey. Hope that covers it. But... I /do/ know somebody runnin' for office as says she wants t'help. With things. I gave her Io's information so's maybe they could talk 'bout expandin' the Clinic t'have real emergency an' hospital facilities. Since it seems that's how they're gonna get used either way." "Er, yeah," Corey seems a bit awkward at the talk of things being at fault, then shakes his head to cover it. "And the kid has a good idea. In space, nobody can hear you scream hate speech." He grins a bit, then hrms at the talk of expanding the hospital. "Probably a good idea to expand it if all the other hospitals are being jerks about it. Who is running for office? Is it anyone I know?" “Also, space is /cool/,” Micah points out between bites. “Elliott Carruthers? Don't know if y'know her or know /of/ her. Family's in politics already. She was at that key-to-the-city ceremony with Jax'n Io'n Luke Cage'n all. She's helped me out a few times. S'a real decent sort. 'Specially for havin' anythin' t'do with politics.” "And cold. I don't think anyone I know can just float around up there without a suit anyway," Corey shakes his head and finishes off the last of the hotdogs he had gotten. "I think I've seen her name in the news a lot, for what you said. Well if she's a good person, then I'm all for it. It's been kinda hard to even think that there Is a government some times, outside of the problems that they cause." Leaning back in the chair, he drums his fingers along the table. "Well, guess it's just waiting for the special election then. God, that's in like two months isn't it?" "Well, obviously. But space suits? /Also/ cool. Pretty much anythin' t'do with space." Micah giggles and sets down the other half of his hot dog for another drink of tea and a return to the sweet potato fries. "Somethin' like that. I've kinda lost all sense of /time/ recently. Either seems like it's holdin' still or racin' like mad. Whichever's least convenient at the moment." "I don't know. The NASA ones? They just seem all sorts of bulky. If you want cool, you gotta go for the sci fi type stuff," Corey says looking authoritative for a moment. "And yeah, between classes, work, and trying to make sure that everyone is getting what they need I think I'm glad that I can get by on so little sleep. " He makes a face and runs a hand through his hair, leaning back. "Maybe I should just ask the clinic to set up a cot for me, or a gurney. They could just wheel me around wherever they need me that evening and I can sleep and work at the same time." "Sci-fi's definitely cool, but the NASA ones have /been in space/. An' they work. /Actual/ 'sci'. Also terribly cool." Micah shakes his head and chuckles at the cot suggestion, simultaneously...sad that it's needed and amused at the image. "I think just 'bout everybody's been burnin' the candle at both ends lately. Just need...everybody t'be /well/ an' a few weeks of peace an' quiet. Don't think much /better/ could be asked for." "Yes, they may work, but not cool at all," Corey nods with assertion. "Besides, I don't think I would fit in one. I think they have like a height or shape limit kinda thing. And well, I'm kinda big." He stretches as if to illustrate his big hugeness. "Yeah, we're almost there at least. A few left on the list, unfortunately, it's the hardest left on the list. That one famous guy, uh... Luke Cage, right. We stopped by before he left the hospital just to make it a little easier on the caregiver he was supposed to have. I mean, I'm big, he's huge. And weighs a ton. You'd need someone my size to be able to move him around." Micah grins silently and resumes munching on his hot dog. Apparently they're going to have to agree to disagree on how cool space suits are. "Yeah, Luke... It's kinda extra surreal that anybody even managed t'/hurt/ 'im. I mean. The man's gotten into a fist fight with an armoured vehicle an' /won/. These people were just..." He shakes his head. "Mmn. The wheelchair that guy'd need. Would prob'ly take special orderin'." Micah finishes his hot dog and plays around with the remaining fries on his plate. "Um, just. Y'might wanna tell Kate. That the wings can wait. For Dusk. He may just need t'be /healed/. Whatever can be done now. An' we'll worry 'bout the other later. If an' when we can. I think...he /might/ not have too much time left. Otherwise. We've got 'im on antibiotics an' pain meds, but he's. It's bad. Is all. Sorry." Nodding, Corey hrms a bit. "Not sure how it happened, but it seems they just mucked up his insides and left the outsides all fine. Which, I guess means we should tell him to avoid standing near a microwave." He chuckles at the wheel chair comment, and shakes his head. "Maybe something with tank treads. I mean it works for a tank after all." Blinking at the description of Dusk's state, he exhales softly. "If you can arrange someone who can show the wings, we can get to it sooner. But she's been reading up all she can in the meanwhile, but... she just isn't sure. We've talked about it, but she really needs to know what she's doing before she starts, otherwise..." he shakes his head. "I know it's just. Maybe the wing part can wait? I'm afraid he's gonna /die/ at this point. They...it was prob'ly the worst plan. But he an' one of the people where he's stayin' /burned/ his eyes an' wings back open when they started t'heal. Not many /worse/ kinda wounds than burns. With him not feedin', his immune system's shot. S'gonna get a serious infection in his /eye sockets/ an' end up with some kinda brain disease. Or go septic." Micah pushes his plate away and cleans his hands with sanitizer from his pocket (slightly vanilla scented) before pulling his gloves back on. "I'm sorry. I know. It isn't... It's not like it's your job t'even be worryin' about. I just don't know what else t'do." "I'll talk with her. But it will be up to him and you guys. But, if she's right, once he's healed, that's kinda it. No more wings then, which I mean, being alive is probably more important," Corey shakes his head as he checks the time. "I ought to get going actually. It was good seeing you. And glad your boys are alright at least." He nods as he stands and collects his trash. "If you know of anyone who can show what the wings look like, you might wanna find 'em quick. Otherwise, someone is going to have to make some decisions." "Okay. I don't...know as /he/ is up t'makin' any choices right now. But it may be gettin' beyond the point... Maybe. I hate t'ask Rasa but maybe ze is okay enough now t'try." Micah shudders a little. "Thank you. For invitin' me t'lunch. Apologies again for bein' such a...mess. At you. Just. Thanks." "Hey, what are friends for?" Corey offers a smile, then pats him on the shoulder. "Hopefully though, they won't find themselves full of holes, missing parts, or burnt to a crisp any time soon. I'm pretty sure Kate is regretting accepting my request for help in this by now." He shakes his head somewhat bemusedly. "On the plus side, I imagine the clinic would be glad to hire her if her hospital gives her any trouble. Either way, keep in touch. If you find out anything let me know and we'll do what we can." Offering a little wave, he takes his trash to the bin and then heads on out.