ArchivedLogs:Teaching Teachers
| Teaching Teachers | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
4 September 2014 ' |
| Location
<NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side | |
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. Outside dusk is darkening the city, but inside here the house is living up to its name, its myriad lamps all brightly lit and very much visible through the house's /many/ open windows. Tiny countertop lamps with richly coloured stained glass shades, tall floor lamps bright and warm, little twinkling string-lights with wire-frame dragonflies around each bulb hung around the windows. At the moment Shane is just putting /up/ some of these last, discovered earlier in the day at a store and brought home to surprise his dad with. The tiny sharkboy is kind of half-dressed from work; he's shed his dress shirt and bow tie though he's draped his houndstooth vest on over his bare chest; it doesn't really /go/ with his black boxers, slacks neatly folded and draped over the couch together with the rest of his clothes. The house is starting to smell like food -- over in the kitchen a tall Japanese youth (considerably /more/ dressed than Shane in neat pale linen trousers and an elegantly tailored knee-length tunic in deep blue embroidered with silver) is tending a chickpea-leek paella on the stove. Micah has been only a darting presence in the house since his not-far-gone arrival home, begging off for being gross and disappearing into the shower shortly thereafter. When he returns downstairs, it is in his typical evening-casual: feet bare, bluejeans patchy, T-shirt black with an Impressionist interpretation of Serenity flying through a Starry Night sky. His auburn hair is wet-spiky, bits sticking to his forehead and temples with droplets sneaking off here and there. He wanders straight into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of peach sweet tea, giving Dai a one-armed hug in greeting (in addition to an appreciative sniff of the cooking food) before returning to the living room. "Y'need a hand gettin' those up? They're pretty. Shiny. Jax'll like 'em." A pause brings the glass to his lips for another long drink. Accustomed now to a slightly ajar door, Billy raps his knuckles lightly on the threshold as he pokes his platinum head in. Nose scrunching up rabbit-like, he inches his heavy glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Hello?" The pasty blonde freezes at the sight of Shane, but forces up a timid smile, "Oh! Sorry! I was looking for-" He tilts his head curiously, "Your dad." In his arms, Billy shuffles a thick white binder with brightly color coded tabs. Judging by the weight, and that of the white leather brief case that weighs him down at his side, he might have one or two more stashed away in there. Spotting Micah, he smiles more, "Hi! The other one. I uhm-texted him but-?" "Paella." Daiki returns the hug -- brief, as ever, to limit the stronger surge of charisma his mutation always brings -- and in lieu of too much hug scoops a pair of winey-herby chickpeas out of his pan to tip into Micah's palm before he leaves. His brows lift, questioning, together with this -- maybe not /just/ offering delicious foods but also soliciting Opinions on what it still needs. "Got a dad right here." Shane is so helpful, waggling the end of one of his string-lights over towards Micah. "You want /double/ the dads that'll cost you extra." He plunks the string into Micah's hand readily. "You're taller. Been having trouble with the top of the windows and my useless boyfriend won't help what good is dating someone tall if they don't /reach/ things for you." "Your useless boyfriend is busy," Daiki answers mildly from the kitchen; he leans slightly over the counter so that he can peer towards the door curiously. "Ah -- Jax-san is painting. He gets a little lost sometimes." His smile is small, reserved, polite, but there's a /warmth/ to it all the same -- mutation-influenced, a slow empathic /tug/ of affection. After the palette-cleansing sip of tea and enough time given for the chickpeas to cool a bit in hand, Micah pops these into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "Maybe s'more paprika, Dai. Seriously makes a difference when y'got the good kind an' not the regular red garnish stuff they have in grocery stores. Might could toss some fresh cilantro on top when it's done, but I'm biased in the always cilantro direction." He deposits his tea on a coaster to catch the rapidly-forming condensation from its sides before taking the light string and tiptoeing it up over the window. "Y'could use a step stool. Or even just a chair," he suggests with a chuckle. "An' Dai's busy makin' deliciousness. Priorities." Micah turns to regard the new presence at the door, sparing one hand for a little wave. "Hi, hon. The other...? Oh, right. Jax's bein' all artsy. Like as not someone'll hafta pull 'im off whatever he's starin' at forcibly. I could go grab 'im once I'm not stuck t'the wall." Billy sets down his load, chirping, "I-I can help!" Despite his demure mien, when he straightens out his posture he is about six feet tall. People tend to overlook that for the stuttering and whining. He moves to take up some of the lights, "I don't want to interrupt him if he's in the zone. I was just getting anxious about lesson plans and was wondering if he'd look some of them over," Billy explains breathily, obviously on the brink of a string of apologies. "Mmm." Daiki turns aside to pluck a bottle of paprika out of the spice rack, sprinkling some into his pan. "The gardens have plenty of cilantro I think." He covers it and turns the heat down to low, slipping out of the kitchen -- and depositing the kitchen's stepstool by the windows -- before slipping out the door. "Lesson plans?" Shane peers over his shoulder towards Billy, curious. "What're you teaching? Anyway he needs to eat before be paints himself into a hypoglycemic coma." "Oh, sure." Micah hands over his lights to their significantly taller guest. "I'll go fetch Jax. Was gonna hafta drag 'im out for food soon, anyhow." He nods to Shane indicating his second of what the teen said. "/So/ much cilantro. Outside an' in the Commons sunroom, both." A brief stop at the table reclaims his tea before he continues down the hall to the studio. "Hey, sugar. S'about time for food an' Billy's come lookin' for you," he informs simultaneous with wrapping his arms around Jax for a hug. "Tea?" The cup is conveniently close to Jax's mouth by this point. There is music playing in the studio, quiet until the door is opened -- Ego Likeness's "Breedless" -- the refrain spilling out into the hall together with a tumble of imagery. Strange shifting colours and wriggling inhuman limbs torn off and bloody, the studio floor glistening slick-wet-red. Or purple. Or blue. It can't really seem to settle on a colour. The scene taking shape on Jax's canvas is only half-done, a not-yet-complete figure perched atop a motorcycle made out of dismembered body-parts; from somewhere off-screen things are reaching to grab the cycle, pull it -- somewhere. It takes Jax a second to reorient himself to Conversation, frowning uncertainly as he leans back into Micah's hug. "Billy's come for tea?" He sounds puzzled, but accepts the tea, taking a drink and lowering his paintbrush as he edges towards the door to peer out towards the living room curiously. He looks -- well, paint-splattered, droplets of colour flecking his grey-and-orange shorts and his Rainbow Brite tee. There are maybe still stray coils of torn-up-bloody tentacles wrapped around his arms, because that is definitely appetizing just before dinner. "Ah-just uhm, starting student teaching," Billy dips his head humbly, stretching both bean-pole arms up to string the lights. His white polo, perhaps a wee too short for this activity, reveals an even whiter midriff, "How did you want these? Is this right?" He flicks his eyes uncertainly towards where Micah disappeared to, unsure if he's supposed to be finishing this /before/ Jax re-enters. "Oh, huh, neat. Teaching who-what-where?" Shane's eyes flick down over Billy as the taller man stretches up, his lips twitching up into a smile. "Yeah just there is good." He picks up the end of the string Billy holds to plug it into the adjacent one he'd just put up, lighting the tiny lights in Billy's string as well. When the door to the studio opens his smile curls a little further; he sings quietly along with the music -- "... my blood is not pure, my body untrue, and I'd rather be breedless than be like you." His teeth bare, maybe a little /fiercer/ than a smile as he turns to peer right /back/ towards Jax. "Christ. You /look/ like dinner." Hey, maybe disembodied tentacles are appetizing to /some/ people. Shane is choplicking, anyway. Micah largely ignores the projections, a slight crinkling of his nose come and gone quickly. "Billy's come for lesson plan help. You're drinkin' tea an' comin' out for dinner. Wrap up." He helpfully tips the glass a bit for Jax to drink, then releases the other man to let him peek out the door. "Ohgosh." Shane's commentary finally earns more of a reaction, Micah's hands brushing over Jax's arms as if this will /help/ with dissipating the images still clinging there. "Hon. You're still kinda...messy." "Painting is messy," Jax protests -- also ignoring the illusions and instead flicking at a stray purple-red fleck of paint on his shirt. Palette still held in one (bloody?) hand, he trails out towards the living room, teeth wiggling at one of his lip rings. "Oh, gosh, hi, Billy. 'pologies, I get a little bit. Um. Dinner?" This seems to orient him a little more, eye widening as he looks down; his cheeks flush deeply crimson. The blood and tentacles evaporate away into nothing. "Oh/gosh/ right um. -- I. Get. Lost. /Hi/. Whooooa." Now his blush fades, eye widening in delight as he spies the dragonfly lights. "/Oh/ wow pretty! Those are so perfect." Where there had been tentacles before, now new images blossom on his arms, tiny jewel-bright stained-glass dragonflies flitting around his skin like living tattoos. "At your school actually-" Billy trails off, his eyes going wide and his mouth mouthing out a pouty, horror-struck, 'Oh,' at the sight of blood and gore. He bats his lashes, planting a bleachy hand on the wall to support himself. "Heya!" Billy pants, forcing up a smile, "No, uhm," he gulps, patting his chest as the gruesome images recede, "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt dinner." "It's /always/ food-time around here," Shane answers Billy with a snort, batting very lightly at Billy's wrist when he lays a (bleachy!) hand on the (pretty!) wall. "Pa eats nonstop all day long -- /yeah/ of course they're perfect /I/ chose them." Duh. His hairless ridged brows shoot /high/ up as he looks at Billy, though, quite openly skeptical. "/My/ school? /You're/ going to teach at /my/ school?" "I didn't mean the paint, sugar, you're illusionin' again," Micah points out as he follows along back into the living room, tea glass in hand. "I think that was Jax /invitin'/ you t'dinner, Billy. No need t'apologise. You're welcome t'stay. An' discuss class things after Jax gets the word-ing part of his brain back on." His lips tug into a lopsided grin at Shane's assertion. "Don't actually eat all the time, but prob'ly /should/." On that note, here is sugary tea being put in front of Jax again. His smile remains, accompanied by a trace of amusement in his tone. "Y'could maybe try'n sound a little less shocked, Shane. He did go t'school there b'fore. Seems like enough of your alumni cycle on back through as teachers." "Billy's studyin' /early/ childhood education is all an' we don't got no /little/'uns," Jax explains to Micah (while taking another happy gulp of the tea), "-- but gosh would it be neat if we /had/ a program for them. An' yeah you're so welcome t'join us at dinner -- wait there's dinner?" He looks kind of belatedly surprised at this, given that Micah is only recently home and /he/ hasn't been cooking. He sniffs at the air -- a liiittle skeptically. Eyes Shane just as skeptically. "... did you cook?" Billy yelps, drawing back his /attacked/ hand and cradling it, "Detention," he whispers to Shane...jokingly. His lips slowly curve up into a much /less/ forced smile. "Yeah, I'm uhm, I studied elementary education," Billy confirms with a nod, "So, we'll see how this goes." He laughs, nervously clearing his throat, "Could I uhm, maybe have a glass of water or something? If it isn't too much trouble?" He sad puppy-dog eyes the entire room. "Too late, I've already got detention straight through the term." Shane sounds totally serious when he says this -- though the trimester hasn't actually even /started/. He slips over to the kitchen to grab a glass from the cabinet, opening the fridge to get a pitcher of filtered water and pour the glass full. "The thing is that most of our alumni, uh, aren't quite so --" For a moment his hesitation might /almost/ imply that he's fishing for a tactful way to end this sentence but alas! Instead he just plows on ahead to: "Dude, you should stick to kindergarteners, my classmates are going to eat you fucking /alive/." His (helpfully razor-sharp) teeth chomp indicatively on this as he offers Billy the glass. "Oh, I didn't even know that part!" Micah seems both pleased and slightly embarrassed at the correction, smile broadening even as red spills across his cheeks. "Though, truth t'tell, we do end up with enough kids there as ain't never seen the inside of a school b'fore. Or not in a long time. An' with their life circumstances, some're operatin' at pretty delayed social-emotional levels. I can see where a background in early childhood ed. could be helpful in certain cases." He giggles outright at the detention talk. "Also, yeah, I dunno if it does any good t'threaten Shane with detention anymore. Pretty sure they're gonna have 'im /back/ for it after he graduates at his rate." His head tilts at Shane's last assertion, however. "Really? I think your classmates're mostly sweethearts with an unfortunate number of hard luck stories. S'been goin' well with the one class I'm teachin', anyhow." Though...it is /Micah's/ opinion on who's a sweetheart. The grain of salt needed for that is a little larger than average. "Oh, that's Dai cookin', hon. He's competin' for favourite son again." That lopsided grin returns. Jax's nose crinkles up, first at Shane's assertion and then at Micah's follow-up. "-- Have you /met/ Max, honey-honey? You know the first term I taught there she took my class /just/ cuz she had a bet on about who could make me cry first. An' don't even get my started on Dennis or --" He blushes, glancing to Shane and then down at his toes. "-- D'you know which classes you're gonna be helpin' with?" He is wandering over towards the kitchen to rinse his brush out and wrap up his palette to stick it in the freezer. "Oh, Dai. Thank goodness." This tease comes with a small poke of his elbow against Shane's side as he passes by en route to kitchen. "Well, I hope I don't cry. My tears burn people like acid." That was a joke -err... supposed to be a joke. "The fact of the matter is, there's still a lot of discrimination even in the academic world, albeit a little more veiled at times. I have to teach older kids to finish my degree," Billy accepts the glass of water gently, cupping it in both hands, "Because there aren't many places willing to accept a registered mutant to teach their kids, yet." His teacher-explainy voice is cooy enough to be well-suited for talking to a very small child and not a Shane. He shifts his eyes, "You aren't in remedial math, right Shane?" Please say no. Please somehow turn out to be a math genius. "Shit, there's discrimination against mutants? You don't say." Shane's voice is so shocked! His enormous pitch-black eyes opening even wider, hugely disproportionate and taking up most of his narrow face. "I can barely even fucking add. Guess I'll be seeing you this term. -- /Hey/ don't sound so relieved." In retaliation for the teasing he turns to chomp (gently, fortunately) at Jax's arm. "My classmates are fucking shitstains, Ba, and the middle schoolers are /worse/. You'd think they were sweethearts if they started each of your classes by pissing on your desk." "Mmn, I've met her. Tough girl routine. S'almost precious, really." Micah pauses to sip from his glass. "It's dif'rent with other kids. Y'all tend t'do your worst at each other, even if that ain't who y'really are." Wandering over to Shane he scruffs at the teen's spiky hair fondly. "Stop that, y'add just fine. Y'been doin' good helpin' out with the books at Evolve." He just shakes his head at the last. "An' they're not /that/ bad. Nobody's done that. You're just tryin' t'spook Billy now." Jax winces, hand still damp from washing out his brush when he lifts it to scrub his palm against his eye. "It's /so/ not precious, believe me." His lips twitch upward slightly. "Nobody's done that to /you/. -- Shane's jus' yankin' your chain," he adds to Billy. "-- well, about the math, anyway. He's in pre-calc this term. I'd like t'say he's pullin' your leg 'bout the students but now an' again it does get kinda rough. Mebbe even rougher than average. We don't jus' got teenagers, we got a lotta teenagers comin' from /pretty/ difficult backgrounds." Billy raises his eyebrows, taking this all in stride with a closed-mouth smile. "You don't have to read me the mission statement, Jax," he reassures, "I was student there, too. I-I know what who we're there to help." The soon-to-be sacrificial lamb shrugs his shoulders, "Anyway, I brought some lessons plans that I was wondering if you could take a look at. Most of my activities are all for a much younger crowd so I'm not even sure what's usable." The front door opens again; Daiki slips back into the house, a large bunch of cilantro held in one hand. He makes his way towards the kitchen to rinse it, resting a hand lightly at the small of Jax's back as he maneuvers around the other man to the sink. "I'm just being honest," Shane answers with a shrug, bumping his head up into the scruffing. "Well, okay, not about the math. I /am/ pretty shit at math though I failed Geometry three times." "There were extenuating circumstances," Daiki murmurs. "I think we can eat." "I'll get Spence. Oh /man/ if you started a Xavier's-Junior he'd be so psyched," Shane says with a grin, "he's /so/ upset every year that he isn't old enough to come there yet." "I said /almost/," Micah corrects with a wide-eyed innocent look. "I mean, yeah. The kids'll try t'push your buttons. Y'gotta realise where they're comin' from at that age. They're pretty much just...pack hunters just startin' t'figure out that they got control of social situations an' strugglin' either t'assert dominance or work 'round a perceived lack of it. An' their frontal lobes ain't done cookin' yet." The index and middle fingers of his free hand tap against his forehead as if in illustration. "But they're also just people. Only...still tryin' t'figure out who they are an' test their boundaries /and/ yours. They'll try t'push your buttons 'cause they've just figured out they /can/. If y'remember that you're the adult an' where they're comin' from an' meet it from there? It'll be fine most of the time." His head shakes firmly at the idea of Billy using lesson plans /designed/ for younger kids. "Don't... I mean, y'can use the old lesson plans for topics an' pacin', maybe? But not for presentation. Y'come out treatin' teenagers like little kids an' they'll try t'prove t'you real quick how much they ain't. An' that wouldn't be pretty for anybody. Harder t'earn their trust after that, too." The nose crinkle at the talk of Spence being old enough to go to Xavier's is /slightly/ exaggerated. "Spence's gettin' older fast enough. No need t'hurry 'im on. An' I'm sure the food's more'n edible, Dai. You're a fantastic cook." "Oh -- thank y'so much, sweetie." Jax smiles briefly up at Daiki, drying off his hands and moving to grab dishes from the cabinet. "Ain't no gluten in this, is there? S'rice an' -- chickpeas, looks like." He starts laying dishes out on the table, tipping his head towards Micah in agreement. "Yeah, won't go real well for anyone if you're condescendin' to the kids. C'mon, can grab some food an' go over what you got. -- Oh gosh Spence'll be havin' a birthday in a week he'll get there soon enough." "That's why I brought them," Billy gestures, towards his haul: three binders of anal retentively organized lessons. Not accustomed to a large family, he fights the urge to become more of a fly on the wall during the dinner time bustle. "Thank you so much for cooking," he offers quietly to Daiki while forcing himself to crawl out of his shell and grab a plate, as commanded. "How old is Spence?" "I have been eating a lot of cafeteria food this week," Daiki answers Billy with a small twitch of smile. "This is relaxing. And no, no gluten in the paella." He starts transferring the rice dish to a serving bowl as Shane slips off towards the upstairs. "Spencer is eight." The boy in question appears before Shane can return -- literally appears, popping into existence in the middle of the kitchen with a large robotic praying mantis still held in his hands, dressed in Linux-penguin-logo tee and grass-stained jeans. Small and skinny with floppy brown hair and a generous sprinkling of freckles that summer has deepened, he admittedly /looks/ slightly younger than his age. He sets the metal bug on the kitchen table and wrinkles his nose at Daiki as he clambers into a seat. "/Almost/ nine," he corrects. "Pretty much nine already," Micah confirms of the upcoming birthday, a hint of sadness to his words. He also fetches cups, flatware, pitchers of tea and limeade, to set on the table a few at a time. "Speak of the teleporter. Hey, sugar." Spence gets a far more /effective/ hair ruffling than Shane had, given the inherently superior ruffle-ability of Spence's hair. "No robots on the table unless they stay out of food an' place settin's entire, right?" "Nine next weekend, s'gonna be the /partiest/ party. Whoa pretty is that a new one?" Jax is kind of bouncy as Food approaches; bouncy as Spence appears, bouncy as he eyes the robot, bouncy as he starts dishing up food. "Mantids are kinda lovely. -- Right okay right m'bein' helpful. Work. Lesson plans. Right." He manages to settle into a chair, one leg tucked up beneath him, and nudges a chair out for Billy. "That's awesome, I wish I was a teleporter," Billy comments, side stepping out of the way and hovering. He's hesitant to steal anybody's usual spot, until of course one his appointed to him and he obediently sits. "If you'd rather do this another time, we can," he giggles. Pulling up a thick binder, his willowy body bends under its weight, "They're color coded by subject and age-group." Because that's fun to Billy! ...He just can't ever touch the tabs. "Yeah teleporting is /awesome/," Spencer agrees cheerfully. "I'm pretty great. This is new she doesn't work yet we're still building her." He obediently sets the robot next to him on his chair before peering at Billy again. "What do you do?" "He talks about boring work shit with Pa while /you/ leave them in peace," Shane explains. Also cheerfully! He gets a plate of food for Spencer before filling his own with mostly just the chickpeas. "C'mon. Let's eat." | |
