ArchivedLogs:Win, Lose, or Cake

Win, Lose, or Cake
At least it's not Cake or Death?
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Micah	14 May 2013 Humanfriends go museuming!
Location <NYC> MoMA - Midtown East
The halls and galleries of the Museum of Modern Art house one of the most influential collections of modern art in the world. With works from Matisse and Picasso, Rousseau and Gaugin, and pieces as famous and Starry Night, visitors flock to this museum every year to take in the history collected on its walls. Its library houses a trove of influential works, as well, a collection of books on art and art history and files on thousands of artists. Melinda and Micah - at the MoMA, seeing the sights. They've seen paintings, they've made quiet conversation about the sculpture. They've sat in silence for a while and just enjoyed some art, but now, halfway through, they stop at a cafe for some overpriced beverages, because one’s mouth tends to get dry when one is staring agape at the beauty (and sometimes oddness) created by people in the last century or so. Melinda orders a black tea infused berry drink and offers to pay for something for Micah. "I hear they have some tasty pastries too." Mmm, overpriced beverages and pastries! Micah is clad in his olive green upgraded Darwin finches T-shirt and one of his less heavily-patched pairs of jeans. He leans casually against the counter as Mel orders. “Oh, you don’t have to spring. It’s pricey in here; we can just split. Did you want to get a thing they maybe have chocolate?” His eyes continue darting over the menu as he orders an iced tea, similarly berry-filled. "Oh, definitely, I can split a chocolaty thing!" Melinda orders a flourless chocolate cake that they have on the menu and forks over some cash, allowing Micah to pitch in for his. She's /trying/ to be springy in her ensemble, but the weather is fighting her. She's wearing a white skirt with large yellow flowers on them, more of a simplified paint version of flowers anyway, with black accents and a black shirt with a gray cardigan over that. She's also got a black canvas jacket over that and gray leggings keeping her legs warm. She's wearing canvas shoes and has an over the shoulder black purse, which she slips her wallet back into. "You want to sit for a while?" Micah makes a little happy-approval sound at Mel’s choice of snacks. His monetary contributions come from a wallet crafted (albeit well!) out of duct tape. Which is then stuffed back into a jeans pocket. “Sure, would be nice to settle for a spell. Nibble cake. Sip drinks.” He offers a lopsided grin to Mel as he collects his own drink, the cake plate, and a pair of forks for ferrying to a table. Melinda snags her drink and follows, settling into a chair as one hand smoothes her skirt under her so it settles in a modest fashion. She then sets the drink down on the table in front of her and rests her elbows, eyes following the progress of the cake and waiting to be handed a fork. "So, Micah, now that we're more seated, tell me! What have you been up to? I haven't been around for a while and wanted to catch up." Micah kind of stands in place, a few aborted plans of movement evident in the way his weight shifts. Mel managed to sit without him pulling the chair out because his hands were full! Oops. He deposits the cake in the centre of the table, passing a fork to Mel. He plunks himself into the chair opposite her, setting his tea and fork in front of him. “Oh, I just got back from a weekend trip home. Been a dog’s age since I visited, an’…Mother’s Day, y’know? Was busy as all get out ‘tween the drivin’ an’…let’s just say I come by the doin’ too many things to have time to sleep naturally.” His smile at this is fond. “Up here’s been more…people missin’ or maybe missin’. It’s extremely unsettlin’.” The smile loses some of its lustre as his brow furrows. “Don’t s’pose you’ve had any sign of the twins, either? Or maybe ran into…gosh, just about /anybody/ at the gardens recently?” "No, No sign of the twins, and I'm sorry, but I haven't been out to the garden lately. Had some stuff come up and threw myself into work and spending time at the shelter to keep from getting mopey about it. Besides, I'm not exactly the gardening type - better at helping out than knowing what to do on my own. Sorry about that." Mel takes a sip of her tea and grabs her fork to force those tines into the chocolaty goodness, intent on delivering it to her mouth. "I did ask my crack team of homeless connections if they knew anything from time to time, but to no avail. Whatever is going on is very good at not leaving clues." Mel’s report is fairly status quo, and Micah had not expected otherwise, but there is still a hint of disappointment that clouds his features briefly. “Oh, don’t apologise. Everybody’s got their own strengths to play to. I was just bein’ hopeful, I guess. I’ve been leavin’ notes for Nox in the cooler, since some of the veggies been up to harvestin’ already, to see what she wanted to do with ‘em. I mean, it’s mostly radishes this early… I ended up stashin’ things in Jax’s fridge for lack of a better plan. Didn’t just not get answers, though. Notes ain’t been movin’, either. It’s like people just stopped showin’ up.” He pauses to stab his own bit of cake and chew at it. “Y’know what we need? One of those psychic detectives.” Micah twirls his now empty fork at that idea. “Gotta be a f’real one out there somewhere, right?” "Has anyone put any of the detectives we do know on the case? Like Jim, or Murphy, or even Jamie. Oh, sorry. I don't know if you've met any of them. I know Jim is close with Hive, but maybe the rest of them haven't really made a splash at the lofts." Melinda's voice grows a little tight as she turns her cup slowly, gaze focused on the straw as it tilts this way and that in the cup. "I'm sure Jax has probably already made the call, but it... it's weird asking Jax about it because I don't really want to bring it up if there are no new leads." "Oh gosh, I don't know. I met Jim a couple of times. Can't say as I know the others. How d'you know so many detectives?" Micah manages to pull himself back from his derailed train of thought. "Um...the cops have been aware since before anybody, I guess. I mean, Eric. He was at Jax's when the twins up an' vanished. Wonder if anybody's been able to track the last locations of their cell phones or anythin' like that? I really don't know how these things work outside of TV, to be honest." He looks somewhat sheepish as he pulls tea through a straw, then starts to chew on the end of the straw absently. "I don't know. I guess I have a P.I. magnet somewhere, I suppose." Melinda shrugs and goes for more cake, keeping an eye on the quantity she has eaten, careful not to eat more than half. "If... you don't mind, and I give you Jim's number, will you call him in to look?" Micah snags another bite of cake, as well, to redirect his mouth to chewing on more appropriate things. “Yeah, I can call ‘im for…you?” One of his eyebrows develops a sudden wanderlust, creeping to higher altitudes as he realises /implications/ of what is being said. “Uh-oh? Y’wanna talk about it or /not/ talk about it?” Melinda shrugs a little, avoiding eye contact. "There's not much to say. It wasn't working out, so he dumped me. I could see it wasn't working. Nothing seemed to ever go right. I should be relieved, but all I have is a hard pit in my stomach." And a need for more chocolate cake. Yum. She glances up to gauge Micah's reaction, seemingly ready to cringe. “Well…there is some tiny comfort in both of you seein’ it wasn’t workin’, I guess?” And more comfort in /chocolate/. Because Micah is nudging the plate with the remaining cake on it closer to Melinda. “It always sucks when things end, no matter how they end… Sorry, sugar.” "Well. I guess." The chocolate is picked at now, the tea sipped at a little more. "Sorry. I don't mean to be more of a downer on an already bad situation. I know, I should be able to talk about how I'm feeling too, but with the twins gone and everything being so tense, I kind of feel like I shouldn't, because a stupid break up of a failing relationship shouldn't really be nagging at me like this - when there are bigger things to worry about." “Ain’t much we can /do/ but worry on that front, hon. Other than keepin’ our eyes peeled an’ recruitin’ folks to help as know more about findin’ missin’ people.” Micah nods here, indicating he does intend to make that phone call later. “Workin’ out personal feelin’s is somethin’ you /can/ do, though. No point pushin’ aside your feelin’s for worry. Give yourself ulcers that way.” His straw is back to being flattened between his teeth. “You had a chance to talk this out at all since it happened?” "Aside from the comment to strangers about a bad weekend? No. Not really. Be drowning myself in chocolate ice cream and trying to stay busy. Haven't seen Jim since. Suppose that makes sense." Melinda scratches at the back of her neck and shaves off a small bite of the cake, then lets it melt on her tongue. "No wonder y'got a pit in your stomach," Micah replies with a sympathetic shake of his head. "Yeah, I imagine he'd be keepin' his distance for a minute... At least chocolate ice cream's nice?" He is trying to keep a willing ear without pushing matters. "That man is stubborn, Micah. I might not actually ever see him again." Melinda frowns and puts down the fork. "Except maybe around the Lofts, but I'm skittish about going back there after I ruined the twins' welcome home party." She shakes her head. "When I fuck things up, I seem to do it universally. Damn, now I sound pathetic. It's much easier to just be distracted and work than talk about this stuff." “That’s his loss, then, if he wants to be that much of a hardhead. Give it some time, though. It’s a little early to tell where things’ll go until the initial /argh/ wears off.” Micah leaves the hand that isn’t busy fiddling with his cup and straw palm-up on the table. Casual-like, just in case it is needed for anything. “I don’t think you ruined the party. Just created a little bubble of misunderstandin’ that has since cleared up, it seems like. From a pretty much entirely outside perspective.” A little half-smile accompanies the addendum. Melinda draws in a deep breath and sighs, heavily, trying to get it out of her system. "You should really eat more cake. Chocolate is useful when you're worried about people too, you know. I was just going to give it time, but now things are bad again and I'm not sure how much time to give it and if stepping in and trying to be helpful /is/ helpful right now. How are things around the Lofts? I saw Jax earlier. Well, right before going home and changing for this." She frowns. "I kind of wanted to hug him until my arms fell off." Micah spears another tinypiece of cake. He is used to being obedient to orders to eat. So many ‘feed people’ genes… “Well, we can always contact ‘im in the meantime, so you can let space happen as needed. Jax is…pretendin’ to be more together than he is, as usual.” He sighs heavily. “I felt kind of awful, bein’ gone for days, but…” Micah scrunches up his left eye as if this is somehow illustrative of conflicted interests. “I’ll tackle ‘im later. But, yeah. I know with the huggin’. I’m not sure how I ever get anythin’ else done.” The thought is enough to earn a hint of a chuckle. "Heh. Yeah. The more I get to know him, the more I can see in his mannerisms how he's feeling, rather than his face. He's a good guy, but I don't think I could function in his position." Melinda seems to be trying to challenge Micah in seeing who can slice off the smaller slice from the remaining, dwindling pastry. "We... should check out the last wing soon, though. I'm afraid they might start closing soon." “It’s…amazin’ what people can find that they can work through, once it’s happenin,” Micah muses idly. He has either won the cake challenge or forfeited it, by leaving his fork on the table. “Yeah, they do close early-ish durin’ the week.”