Logs:Broken Dishes

Broken Dishes
cn: discussion of abusive relationships
Dramatis Personae Jax, Kitty
In Absentia	2020-10-31 that road don't -- lead nowhere good.
Location '<NYC> Kitty's Apartment - Inwood'
This two bedroom flat in Inwood has seen better days, but the current occupants have worked gamely to make the space cozy. The window in the living area looks out onto an alley, but the sill is spruced up with rock lamps and succulents. There is a dusty television pressed up against one blue-painted wall, opposite a faux-leather couch covered in throw blankets. The walls are covered in posters - bands, mostly, leading toward Anya's room, and astronomy event toward Kitty's. The kitchen is clean and barebones - some dishes are always in the drying rack, and a fruit basket is generally full of apples and bananas. Today, the fruit bowl has been cleared of all natural sweets and filled with fun-sized candy bars, the only acknowledgement of Halloween inside the apartment. A broom rests against the side of the fridge - the waste bin is full of glitter and dirt and trash and sawdust. On the inside of the door, an additional latch has been recently installed, shiny and brassy compared to the deadbolt and chain. In the kitchen, Kitty is setting the electric kettle, now full of water, back on its base on the counter. She has sawdust under her nails still. She’s dressed for a day in, flannel pajama pants and a Xavier’s Class of 2012 sweater, with long dreidel print socks peaking out from under the hem of the pants. “I don’t have a lot of -good- tea,” she’s saying to her guest, “but there is a fun Lavender Earl Grey in here somewhere, and then, like, the basics.” Her tone is a little forced in its cheeriness, and every few seconds her right hand moves to scratch at the scabs on her left arm. Pushed back against the backsplash are a few broken mugs - her eyes hang there a second before scrambling to find something intact. "That Earl Grey sounds perfect." Jax has just shed his shoes by the door and is wandering further in to put a small Tupperware of very green zombie-decorated cupcakes on the counter. He's just casual, black corduroy bellbottom overalls worn over a very paint-splattered and ancient Rainbow Brite hoodie, his socks brightly patterned and unmatching, a jack-o-lantern (with intermittently flickering flame) in the center of his eyepatch. His eyes follow Kitty's to the broken mugs, brows furrowed. "Rough week?" The bag of loose leaf tea is pulled down from a cabinet, along with two intact mugs (one covered in cat drawings, the other with a print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night) and tea balls. “Yeah.” Tea into the tea balls, balls into the mugs, hot water into the mugs. Each step seems to take more focus than is typical for Kitty. “Thank you for finding that stuff on Sylvia. Though, uh, fascists rolling up to the door is pretty -“ Kitty’s face contorts into a grimace. “Not great.” She turns around, leaning against the counter to face Jax. “But. We’re all having rough weeks right now.” "No," Jax agrees, eye widening as Kitty's face contorts, "that's real scary. For the both of you. Like the sense of generalized impending doom ain't been ramping up enough without..." He bites down on his lip, glancing over to the new lock on the door and then to Kitty. "I'm sorry. Not even feelin' safe in your own home is its own entire stress. I been collating a list of options we might could tap if either or both'a you need a place. Some friends run a network of safehouses through the city -- most got some other folks stayin' at 'em, but they're off the grid and guarded, which might be a blessing with a stalker in the mix. Have..." He hesitates, thumb curling in to run across his knuckles. "Have you talked t'Tabitha since she took off?" She scratches again at the scabs, eyes drifting over to the new lock as well. “Yeah,” she repeats, her voice a low breath. When her focus goes back to Jax, there is trepidation in her eyes. “I texted her,” Kitty starts, “but I think she’s pretty pissed at me. And when she was bailing, I didn’t have a lot of time to try to talk to her?” She shrugs. “I was busy trying to keep the apartment from blowing up, and then she was gone.” Another beat and she turns back to the tea, as if staring at the water will make it steep any faster. “Anyway, I don’t want to take a space from someone who needs it. I just think she might, is all.” "Pissed at you -- for -- what?" Jax blinks, head tilting slightly. "I mean, you could also always crash at the school if it comes to that -- s'safe an' guarded an' there's food, I jus' ain't sure 'bout the commute for you. An' B and her friend Kisha both got mostly empty apartments that..." He folds his arms against the counter, leaning down against them. Only then does his frown deepen. "Wait, blowing up like for real for real?" He's glancing back to the broken mugs, then to Kitty. Kitty shrugs. “I think for not telling her right away what happened? I think? I’m not sure.” There is a deep sigh. It may be a little premature, but Kitty removes the tea balls, passing the Van Gogh mug to Jax before clutching onto the cat one tightly. “I could do B’s or Kisha’s,” she hazards, “just until I get my nerves back? If they don’t mind.” Kitty’s eyes go a little wider. She hesitates before clarifying. “I mean, yeah? It’s kind of - she gets mad, she drops a bomb, I phase it out with me so nothing actually blows up. It’s - I thought, like, I can cancel out the damage, it makes sense she stays with me.” Her expression is a little more doubtful. Jax wraps his hands around the mug, staring down into it. He's silent for a stretch. The small glowing flicker in his eyepatch has faded as he thinks, his hair losing its artificial iridescence. "I think," he ventures, carefully, "it's gonna be a real challenge finding housing for her anywhere if there's a risk that she's gonna -- assault folks who cross her. I --" His eye lifts back to Kitty. "-- can't rightly say I see the sense in you getting blowed up just cuz you can -- what, take it? Feels like sense would be in not blowing up your friends to start off." “Better me than herself.” Kitty’s reply is immediate, but she is avoiding Jax’s gaze now. “I know it’s a tough putt, got that from the email chain. I just- I want her to get better. Like, she clearly just escaped a fucked up relationship, she’s got something going on mental health-wise…” She trails off, sighs. “I was hoping that having somewhere to land would help her.” She blows gently on the surface of the tea before taking a sip. "Wait, why better you?" Jax's brows are knitting again. "Ain't like she don't know full well what she's doing when she decides to throw bombs at Dawson, or the children at school, or Shane's customers, or you -- she ain't risking herself. That ain't -- a you or her situation?" His hand lifts, scrubbing across his cheek. "She -- had a place to land, right?" His hand turns out -- towards Kitty's apartment. The broken mugs. "I'd like for her to be safe, but I ain't sure how's that gonna happen if she don't choose to meet folks halfway on that first." “Because-“ Kitty stops, letting Jax continue. A hot flush is coming up in her cheeks now. She steps through the little division between kitchen and living room, away from Jax for a moment, focusing on the couch. “I just-“ this time she cuts herself off, sinking into the couch cushions. “I don’t know. You’re right, but I feel like I have to be there for her. I don’t know why.” Jax turns the tea around in his hands, fingers pressing harder against the warm mug. "I mean..." He starts, slow and soft, "because she do need help. And you do care about her. And..." Another hesitation. "When things is always being manufactured into a crisis, there ain't never a good time to step back an' say hey, this ain't safe or ain't working. That's sort of how it goes. 'specially if sayin' that might trigger a crisis in itself. But you just keep holding on thinking if you get them past this crisis, just help 'em a little bit longer, things'll calm down and be better and you can work it out. Or least," he lifts a shoulder, shrugs small, "that's definitely what I told myself, too, through the first few broken dishes. An' the next. Through the first few broken ribs, too." On the couch, Kitty stares into the steam coming off her tea while Jax speaks, her fingers pressing tighter and tighter against her own mug. There is a quiet moment, the sounds of the city below filling the silence. Then - “Fuck.” It comes out more sad than angry. When Kitty turns her head back to Jax, her eyes are wide. She swallows, hard, even though she hasn’t had any tea. “I didn't even - Is that what this looks like? Like-“ Her voice breaks a little, and she lets the sentence die. Jax shrugs again, turning around against the counter to better face Kitty. "Can look like a lot of things, much of it hard to see from the inside, but -- but from where I'm standing? Hard not to see a friend in a real unsafe place an' -- I don't only mean Tabitha." He bites down on his lip again, still turning the mug in slow circles in his hands before he ventures over to join Kitty on the couch. "I think everyone deserves safety, an' might could be there's ways we can help her find some. But it's a pretty hard thing for me to accept that that means letting her harm everyone around to get it. From what I seen, that road don't -- lead nowhere good." She shifts a little as Jax sits besides her. Kitty's eyes are unfocused, staring off at some middle distance. “How do you pull away?” she asks eventually, her voice quiet. “I mean, both, how did you and also, how can I?” Her fingers tap on the mug’s handle. “I don’t want to leave her to get snatched up by fascists, but I don’t want to be in this.” The tapping turns slowly into a trembling in her hands. Jax is slow to answer, looking down at his mug where he rests it now in his lap. "I wish there was a clean answer for that. I had some friends give me a wake up call. After that I think -- setting solid boundaries was a start. Keeping 'em. But..." His thumb flicks lightly at the handle of his mug. "I ain't tryna pretend it's not a real bad situation. I don't want her to come to no harm. I'd guess most of the team would be glad to offer -- protection, shelter, if she wants that, but she ain't shown much sign she does. For me one of the hardest parts was coming to terms with the fact that I can't be responsible for someone else's life like that. Not if they're keen on harming me and, honestly, not if they ain't. The line between offering someone support an' deciding it's your job to manage 'em is -- well, I can't say I exactly know, but if someone attacked me and fled my house screaming at me I feel like it's gotta fall somewhere before beating myself up that I ain't chasing 'em back down." “Can’t be responsible…” Kitty repeats slowly, her voice still low and soft. She winces a little at the description, shoulders curling forward toward the warmth and comfort of the tea. Her eyes snap back into focus as she shakes her head. “That’s a good point, but…” She trails off. “But nothing, I guess.” Kitty doesn’t seem happy about this conclusion, her face souring into a frown. “So, what do I do if she comes back? Or if Sylvia does?” The name comes with a little more trembling. “I’ve never been stalked before.” "I --" Jax falters, frowning at his tea. "Do you want to talk to her, still? I don't know well enough to gauge if you think that'd be -- difficult, or dangerous. Or if you'd want company for that kinda a talk. Or if you'd prefer someone talk to her for you. There's -- options." He grimaces, after. "Sylvia, though. That one might just be a panic button call right now. I got some friends -- same ones that tracked down her info to begin with. They helped set up some of our security for --" He hesitates, brows knitting again. "Well, some of us who tend to be on the government's radar. Might could move you into Kisha or B's place for now, help you tighten up some of your digital footprint so as fascists have a harder time finding you. Few years ago I'd'a said that's paranoia only with how things are these days --" “— it would be stupid not to be.” Kitty takes another sip of tea, leaning a little over so her shoulder bumps against Jax’s. “I mean, of course I want to talk to her, I’m scared as shit for her. But maybe… maybe not alone.” Her face pulls into a tight smile that quickly turns into a grimace. “And after your friends make me less stalk-able.” She taps on the side of the mug just once, the trembling in her hands steadying slowly. “Thank you.” Now the smile is really a smile, though it’s small. "Yeah. And if nothing comes of it, well. Being overprepared's a good sight better problem to have than the alternative." Jax's frown is starting to ease, gradually, with the shoulder bump. He takes a small sip of his tea finally, shoulder bumping back up lightly against Kitty's. "Feels trite to say s'what friends are for, but gosh if that ain't true in times like these more'n most. We'll get through this." A very small press of lips. "An' I really do hope we'll help her get through it, too."