ArchivedLogs:Thankful

Thankful
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jack	26 November 2014 '
Location <NYC> Grocery Store – Lower East Side
It's snowy. It's sleety. It's icy. It's cold. And, oh right, also dark. The small local grocery is just getting ready to close up for the night as Micah makes his way out the little automatic door. Swoosh-thump. An employee is moving to lock the doors almost as soon as the redhead is out through them. Micah is dressed like a Southerner caught in a snowstorm, just /layers/ of fabric from Jayne hat to Fourth Doctor scarf to Batsignal hoodie to stripy gloves to olive puffy coat to snow boots. A short expanse of denim peeks out between coat and boots, covering his legs. A single canvas bag on one shoulder has the look of being lightly laden with groceries and the ever-present messenger bag thumps along at his opposite hip. Though the store's sidewalks and parking lot have been periodically cleared, the snow keeps layering down and sneaky patches of ice do lurk. As such, Micah is armed with a pair of neon orange forearm crutches, each with its own toothy ice-grip attachment at its tip. Layers would be nice. Really nice. Jack doesn't have that option though. No, he's stuck with just his jeans, hoodie, gloves, and scarf as he trudges through the sleety snowy night of cold doom. He's come by the grocery store to raid their dumpster and right now he's carrying a loaf of supposedly stale bread and what appears to be a plastic bag with a pair of dented soda cans inside. He's trying to keep his hood down as he walks but combined with the ice and the dark, it's a recipe for trouble. He hits one of those ice patches in the parking lot and goes down with a startled yelp. "Dammit," he groans as he lands in the slush. The thump-yelp-groan certainly is enough to attract Micah's attention away from the /ground/, which he has been eyeing carefully on his way toward his van (it's the big, blue boxy thing painted up to look like the TARDIS). He does a good prairie dog impression, perking up and twisting his neck to regard the source of the sounds. Seeing the downed kid, he makes his way over (slowly!), calling out only after reaching reasonable proximity for conversation. "You okay?" Click-step, still making his way to the teen's side. Jack is cursing up a storm in his head, knowing he's going to be wet and cold worse than he already was. He wasn't expecting anyone to speak to him so he jumped a little when he heard Micah's voice. His hood fell back as he looked towards the man and he blinked a few times. "I'm alright..." he trails off, squinting a little as he tries to determine who's under all that clothing. The voice sounds familiar enough. As it turns out, a lack of face is actually easier to recognise than a presence of one. "Jack?" Micah confirms, head tilted with a bob of the Jayne hat pompon. "Sugar, here..." He moves as close as he can without ending up in slush-ice, himself, shifting both crutches over to one hand so he can stoop and offer the other to help the boy up. "Y'look half froze. Y'got a place t'go t'night?" The redhead hadn't voiced the suspicion before, but seeing the kid extra wet and miserable in /this/ weather finally drags the question out. Hearing his name narrows down the possibilities for Jack. There's only a few people in New York that he's revealed his name to. "Shane's dad," he says mostly to himself, surprised. He realizes a moment later his hood is down and scrambles to pull it back up only to sigh when he gets the wet fabric on his head. He frowns as he takes the offered hand. "Only half? That's more than usual," he tries to joke to cover up how embarrassed he is. And then he winces at the question. "Sort of..." he trails off, "not really my place." Micah nods confirmation of the label. "Micah," he reiterates softly as he helps the teen to his feet. "Half's more'n enough." His lips pull over to one side over the coils of scarf covering his chin. "Yours or not ain't really the question. S'more...y'got a place where y'can eat an' get warm an' dry?" His eyebrows loft slightly, though one could only really tell from the shifting of facial muscles since his forehead is near entirely covered in Hat. Jack shifts a bit awkwardly. He stays quiet as he debates what to say. He watches Micah for a few moments and eventually he sighs. "Guessing you already figured it out," he says quietly. "No...I don't have a place to go. I've been camping out in an alley near that cafe and last night I found this old building I was going to spend tonight in..." he trails off, looking away. He's a bit ashamed to actually admit it. "You ain't really used t'bein' out on your own, huh?" Micah says softly, shifting back onto two crutches once his hands are free to do so again. "It...happens more often than any of us'd care t'think. 'Specially for folks with special abilities. Gets hard t'find places." His teeth worry his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before he continues. "Y'can say no t'any or all of the offer, but. Place we live? S'got a few guest rooms in. Get you a hot shower an' some clean clothes an' a bed for the night if y'want. T'morrow's Thanksgivin' an' we're havin' a big-ol' community dinner. Sure wouldn't mind another at the table for that, neither." "I've been on my own for a couple years. I'm not used to New York," Jack corrects. "Things got bad back in Jersey and I heard that it'd be easier here so," he shrugs. He just ends up staring at Micah when he makes his offer. He never thought he'd get an offer like that. At least not from someone that didn't give him seriously bad vibes. Eventually he takes a deep breath. "Okay...provided I didn't just fall and hit my head and am hallucinating all this," he begins, a little joke attempt. "I...that sounds seriously amazing and I would love it." "Is it?" Micah asks, legitimately curious. "Any easier than Jersey, I mean. Only dif'rence I could think is that we got the Mendel Clinic here an' maybe a higher density of folks with special abilities than most places." He smiles, genuine but a little sad, at Jack's reaction to the offer. "Y'ain't hallucinatin'. A lotta the folks as live with us--I mean, a fair amount of m'family you've met already--they been in similar situations t'where you are now. Likely for similar reasons, if I'm not all wrong-headed in m'assumptions." Another pause is accompanied by a slight increase in colour in his cheeks. "Okay. Here's where I say I am /fully/ aware that I'm a Strange Guy With a Van." His head nods in the direction of the TARDIS van over there. "I'm more'n willin' t'give you a ride back with me. If you're uncomfortable, I can just give you the address. S'walkable from here, but...weather's just nasty." "So far? Yeah. I mean other than Sausage Man almost taking my head off and those drunk jerks that were after this girl last night, people have been nice to me. Giving me food, telling me about places that won't freak out when I take my hood off...now this," Jack smiles a bit, trying to ignore the cold. He blushes as well at the whole 'strange guy with a van' thing and then snickers a little. "If you don't mind the whole wet and dirty thing in your van, I don't mind a ride." "Ion's a good guy. Just...real energetic." That last comes with a bit of a /sigh/ to it considering the earlier events of the day. Micah gestures toward the van again, this time walking toward it as well, indicating that Jack should follow. "An', yeah. Drunk jerks're everywhere, unfortunately. Think y'lucked out on findin' some good places 'round here. Happy Cakes's always been friendly. Evolve's /set up/ for the purpose of bein' friendly. I know a shelter that'll let folks with special abilities stay, too. Can get y'that address in case that's ever a thing y'wanna look into." He chuckles at the concern for his van's upholstery. "Ohgosh, I got all manner of towels an' sheets an' plastic even we can throw over the seat if it's a worry. An' upholstery cleans a lot easier than people un-frostbite. Let's get y'warmed up first-order." "Yeah, he's not bad...I mean he bought me lunch even after that so..." Jack trails off with another shrug. He follows along, more carefully this time. He wraps his arms around himself as he goes, stepping over a patch of ice. "Yeah...letting the smell of cakes draw me into that bakery turned out to be a great thing. Almost walked right by it," he remarks. "There's a shelter like that too? Yeah, I should probably check that out too," he says, mood improving considerably. He ends up chuckling as well, nodding a little. "Warm is good, very good. I really can't thank you enough." "Sounds 'bout right. Ion's kinda the...sock a guy an' then buy 'im a beer kinda fella." Micah does pause to open the back of the van first (a peek will reveal it to be a /busy/ back of a van, all built in storage and equipment and a sewing machine at a worktable, odds and ends of things secured in every available corner) to fetch a pair of towels. These he drapes over the passenger seat to alleviate Jack's mess concerns. "Alright, should be all set there. The shelter ain't...not like Hanna's or Evolve. But they don't throw people with abilities, even /visible/ ones, out just for that. Which is a lot t'say for a shelter anymore." He pats the towel-covered seat. "Hop on in. I'll get the engine runnin' an' see if we can't warm 'er up 'fore we're already home." A lopsided grin pops up at the thanks. "Well, y'know. 'Tis the season." "I still can't believe he chased me over a half eaten hotdog," Jack laughs quietly. He peeks at the back of the van and ends up surprised. "Whoa," he murmurs, amazed it all fit in there. His unseen expression turns a little bitter. "Yeah, I got thrown out of a couple back in Jersey when people didn't see me," he says. The invisible teen sits down where indicated and nods. "Suddenly I appreciate this season a lot more." “Think Ion's had t'scrape an' skip more'n a few meals in 'is day. Half a hotdog's still half a meal, y'know?” Micah can't help but chuckle at Jack's reaction to the van. “S'bigger on the inside,” comes the mandatory joke. Once Jack is situated, he moves to the driver's seat and gets the engine running with the heat blasting away merrily. “Means it's doin' what it should. Be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” And they're off. "Yeah, he told me about it," Jack felt bad about it but the clothesline helped reduce that. The joke goes over his head but he's still smiling. Once the heat starts blasting, he holds his hands towards the vents and lets out a content sigh, settling in for the drive.