Logs:Important Stuff

Important Stuff
Dramatis Personae Shane, Spencer, Jax-cameo	2020-10-25 "Don't wanna distract Pa, you know?"
Location <PRV> Black House - Ridgewood
This stately townhouse has a cheerful yellow brick exterior, its front entrance spectacularly inaccessible but affording residents a commanding view of the quiet street below. Inside it's bright and airy and almost entirely empty of furniture. It has the pristine, sterile look that comes with professional renovation, but here and there the obvious custom touches -- whether from the previous residents or at the new owner's request -- shine through. The first floor is expansive, with a longish open floor plan that's quickly falling out of fashion. One entire wall of the living room consists of tessellated geometric mirrors, reflecting the truly massive and functional fireplace and even larger mosaic stone hearth. Beyond this the dining room and kitchen are conjoined; the space left for the as yet absent dining table looks vast and strange. A small half bath is tucked at the rear of this space, beside which the back door leads down into a small backyard with a patio sheltered by a quaint little pavilion and a strip of a garden along one side. The staircase winding through the heart of the house is lit by a generous skylight, and runs parallel the main hallway of the second floor, which joins two comfortably sized bedrooms room, with an expansive and luxurious full bath in between and not one but two hallway closets. On the top floor is a massive bedroom with as much glass as wall and its own full, if smallish, bathroom. French doors one one side of this attic room lead out onto a roof deck, whose stairs lead down into the backyard far below. The abrupt cold and dreary cloud cover putting a damper on those who might otherwise choose to enjoy their Sunday afternoon outside, leaving the neighborhood quiet. Spencer might not have cared, in healthier days, but he's been dozing for a while on the couch, swathed in blankets and curled into a heap with Obie. The dog rouses at some noise, real or imagined, and wriggles his way out from under Spence's arm to go and bay at the front door. The boy groans his perhaps overdramatic complaint, righting himself and blinking at how dark the window has gone. He does not look much replenished by his nap, still pale and sluggish and miserable. Turning back to the laptop open on the table in front of him, he stares blankly at the Netflix dialog box asking whether he's still watching 'She-Ra and the Princesses of Power'. Doesn't make any move to answer it, though. There's an intermittent thump-thump-thump on the stairs; Shane is half-carrying, half-dragging a carry-on suitcase downstairs. He's not dressed for going anywhere -- just a sleeveless black undershirt paired with his subtly pinstriped black slacks. He sets the suitcase down beside the stairs, dropping down to sit on the arm of the couch. "Oh shit, have you started the new season of Kipo yet?" Spencer looks up from the screen, his smile coming slow and weak. His eyes linger on the suitcase. "No. I mean we started it but." He nestles down further into the blanket. "Then with Flicker and the uprising and all I just --" He shrugs. "Don't wanna distract Pa, you know?" Shane slides down onto the floor, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth to call Obie back over. He drags the beagle up against his side, scruffing behind the pup's ear. "Man, you fucking kidding? Distract him. Do the both of you some good." "I'm already distracting him so much by being all..." Spence flaps one hand in the air and huffs, "...sick and stuff." Though a beat later he concedes, with a duck of his head, "I guess chemo isn't a fun distraction. But like..." He bites his lower lip. "He's got important stuff to do." Shane's gills flutter, quick. He tips his head back against the base of the couch, huge black eyes staring up at Spence. "I'm pretty sure taking care of you is important shit to do." His brows are pulling together. "So is relaxing once in a while. Shit, you really are Ba's kid." "Well, yeah..." Spencer frowns. Lowers his voice, embarrassed. "I guess I just feel like I'm -- acting like a little kid? I'm 14 whole years old and I could help so much if..." He hugs his knees to his chest, rocking himself gently. "But he likes watching shows with me." Kind of uncertain, kind of hopeful. "You are a kid." Shane half-turns, dislodging Obie from where the beagle has just started to settle with his head in Shane's lap. "But you could be grown and still need a break sometimes. And he does like watching shows with you." His nose scrunches. "You really should take a cue from Matt. I don't think cancer has a lot of perks so you really need to milk the one where people spoil you while it lasts." "Ok, but I'm not little." This comes out more petulant and less defiant than Spence probably intended it. He rests his chin on his knees, finger tips rubbing small, agitated circles on the fleecy blanket "I don't think people are gonna start really spoiling me until I lose my hair. Though. Matt says I should just shave it off. So it's less messy." Then, much quieter, "Are you gonna take breaks, when you're back on tour?" "And so you get spoiled faster." Shane leans back against the coffeetable, now, knees crooking up toward his chest. "Got like, a couple shows then a chunk of time off next week, actually. Won't be long till I'm back -- for a little bit, anyway." He watches Spence's fingers move, inner eyelids blinking shut. "Over the Moon," he adds, then. "On Netflix. I think you'd both love it." Spence's lips twitch into a faint smile. "I guess that, too." He's quiet for a moment. "I forgot that's...so soon, already." He fails to disguise the relief in his voice. Buries his face in the blanket for a moment as Shane wouldn't notice him sniffling if he muffled it. "Over the Moon." He nods. "Ok, I'll -- we'll watch it. And your shows. And we'll riot extra hard while you're gone." The twitch of Shane's lips never quite makes it into a smile. He pulls himself up onto the couch beside Spencer, patting the cushion to call the dog up there as well. "That," he says as he leans forward to start the show again, curls an arm around his brother, "better be a promise." It's very late at night when Jax wanders into the kitchen, kind of slow, kind of stiff, his steps dragging as he starts towards the fridge. His face is once more too pale, eyes fixed down on a tablet that he leaves on the kitchen table as he goes to grab himself a juice. There's a spreadsheet open on it, an ongoing schedule of medics out in the streets and where they're stationed. At this hour, Spence has long since gone to sleep. Shane is waiting up, though, tucked up at the kitchen's breakfast table with his laptop out. He only barely glances up from its screen when his dad wanders into the kitchen; a brief flick of eyes to Jax's injured side, to the tablet, then back to his screen. "Should be careful with that," comes mildly. "Spence is learning all the wrong lessons from you."