ArchivedLogs:Another Storm

Another Storm
Dramatis Personae Micah, Melinda, Jackson	14 December 2013 Weathering the oncoming snowstorm...apparently involves a lot of /food/ at Lighthaus.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. It's a snow day in the City today! Forecasts are calling for six to ten inches by day's end, and by early afternoon there's a light coating already sticking on the sidewalks. With temperatures barely sneaking over the freezing mark at their warmest, all of the fluffy stuff falling from the sky promises to linger once it hits. Micah put the call out after breakfast for anyone needing a ride to obtain necessities from the grocery store, his heavy van decently equipped for braving the beginnings of the wintry weather, at least. He has his neon orange forearm crutches with their snow/ice attachments on strapped onto his back now that he's safely indoors, shoulders also criss-crossed in reusable shopping bag straps. One arm is wrapped around a package of toilet paper and his one free hand is jingling his keys as he works them into the lock on the Lighthaus door. He pushes into the entryway at last, depositing his burdens not too far from the doorway so that he can start unlacing his boots for removal prior to walking through the apartment. "Gosh, it's really lookin' like it might be as much of a mess as they're predictin' this time," he opines, lingering flakes of snow already melting on his Jayne hat, green striped gloves, candy-corn striped scarf, and olive puffy coat. Melinda follows Micah in to the apartment, carrying two reusable grocery bags as well. She kicks off her boots haphazardly at the door and shakes off a little bit of accumulated snow before setting the bags down and starting to remove her coat. "Yeah, well, I don't think I'm going to be too upset about the whole city being covered in a blanket of white obscurity for a little while. Might make it look somewhat normal for once." She gives him a tired smile as she hangs up her coat and returns to the bags, moving them all to the near by table for sorting. "How about you? You're a southerner, right? Is the white stuff still all sorts of wrong?" Micah finally gets his boots off, depositing them in their usual spot by the door. He removes his crutches in their holster, hanging them up, as well. “Can't say I'm the /biggest/ fan of snow an' ice. Does make it a bit harder for me t'get around since I ain't got as good feedback for when things are slippery as most folks.” He nods at the crutches, wriggling out of his coat and cold-weather accessories next. “The Southerner in me just hates the cold. Completely don't know what t'do with snow once it's more'n a handful of inches. Talkin' near t'/feet/ gets me actin' like we'll never see civilisation again.” With a giggle, he sets the pack of toilet paper on the couch for later delivery down the hall, then picks up bags to move into the kitchen. “I'm sure this is all prob'ly over-kill, but I didn't wanna be without fresh foods an' all for...days? How long's it usually take t'clear up stuff like this? I know it's /more/ here, but back home we don't got the systems in place t'take care of /less/, so... I dunno if it'd take longer or shorter t'get back t'things here.” "New York handles the snow relatively well, making sure that the roads get cleared while it's coming down in some cases. Mobility will still be slicker, but I don't really think you'll have to tromp through heavy drifts -- well, unless you want to." Melinda follows Micah into the kitchen and starts pulling things out of the bags, mostly emptying one, hers, to start. "Nah, supplies are nice for when one just plain does not want to go outside again. And warm type comfort food are the best. I swear, I mostly stock up on hot chocolate supplies and pancakes and chili. Speaking of chili, did you want to make some?" Mel grabs the small supplies that she bought for herself and starts slipping them back into her bag to take home later. "I got some flour, we could make bread too. That's a great way to pass the time inside." She looks out over the supplies purchased and peeks into other bags, looking for something. "Reassurin' at least. Ugh...drifts. But," Micah pauses in his unpacking of bags with a fond smile, "I met Jax kinda under a pile of snow the first time, so...kinda makes me think of that, too." He turns to move some items to cabinets, some to the refrigerator. "Ohgosh, yes. We still have some potato leek soup left over from last night, but it ain't gonna go /far/ considerin' how many people are crashin' here lately. Chili would be amazin' an' I can sure help with that. As far as bread...I can do specific tasks as are assigned t'me? I tend t'make a right mess of bakin' when left t'my own devices." His grin goes a little sheepish with this, likely in recollection of some oven-based misadventures. "Wanna do...some herb bread? Oh, or cornbread? Cornbread's crazy-good with chili. Or both? Can just spend the afternoon hidin' in a warm kitchen. We got all kindsa tea an' cocoa at the ready here, too." Finally, he stops in his excitement with a thought. "Ohgosh, I don't wanna /strand/ y'here, though. Y'let me know as soon as you're wantin' t'get home. Not that we don't want ya. You're also welcome t'hole up here s'long as y'want, provided y'don't mind how crowded it can be hereabouts." "Cornbread is amazing with chili, it's true." Melinda pokes through the bags until she finds a very, obnoxiously pink box and slips it into her bag, her body is a little stiff as she does this. "Did you need help with cornbread? It's kind of more of a mix and go cake rather than a bread that needs to be kneaded and rise." She turns back to look Micah over, brows high. "Oh, last time we had a big storm like this, I kind of stranded myself at Lucien's and we had a lovely time toasting bread and cheese. I kind of get bored at home. I hope you don't mind. Well, I haven't really officially invited myself over yet, so I guess apologies aren't really in order." She licks her lips and pauses before returning to the subject at hand. "Yes, you can definitely help with some herb bread. Maybe we'll start with something easy like focaccia. Do we have fresh herbs or dried? Both work, but it's good to know what we're working with." “I can make a /passable/ cornbread, but guarantees don't exist on it. I got a talent for burnin' baked goods for some reason.” Micah's head tilts as Mel stiffens. “You okay, sugar? Y'don't gotta worry about invitin' yourself on account of I beat y'to it. Ain't gonna leave nobody stranded out there if we can be a better option.” His eyes turn ceiling-ward as he considers ingredients. “Not as many fresh herbs hangin' about in the wintertime. We got fresh cilantro /always/, but that ain't 'xactly bread-y. Some fresh parsley an' basil right now. Gotta wealth of dried herbs, though. Definitely rosemary, thyme, an' such.” "Ah. Yes. Well." Melinda turns a little red as the stiffness turns to nervousness. "Well, I'm not. I mean, well, I kind of come over here a lot and lived here for a while so it's not like I'm uncomfortable inviting myself over, I guess I just should become more aware of the fact that I don't actually live here and be respectful of the fact that there is a method for being polite and well, use it. I mean." She exhales and purses her lips. "I'm not worried about that. Sorry. There are just other things on my mind at the moment." She looks toward the spice cabinet and focuses. "Onions and basil and tomato would work, but I didn't really like any of the tomato at the store - given how outside of the correct season we are, so we'll put some rosemary in the dough and that'll help." "Oh, sor--I mean, I didn't mean t'make y'feel uncomfortable." Micah's own light blush surfaces on his cheeks in answer to Mel's. "We love havin' y'around, honey. Ain't no need t'feel awkward." He collects the fresh basil and a bag of onions, placing them on the counter along with a pair of cutting boards and knives. "If y'wanna talk about whatever...other things are, I don't mind. Already set t'be in the kitchen for a good minute with m'ears on. But...not pryin' either. Don't gotta say nothin' if y'don't want." Micah quickly slides back into cooking talk to offer an easy out, if it's wanted. "I usually keep a pack of those julienne-cut sun-dried tomatoes around for cookin', if those would work?" "Oh. Sun-dried tomatoes would be lovely." Melinda brightens up a little and turns to get to work. "That'll round out the bread flavor nicely. Thank you." She pushes up the sleeves on her magenta hooded sweater and moves over to the sink to wash her hands. "As for the other thing, I'm not sure you want to hear about female problems. I mean, I know you have a medical background and that kind of stuff wouldn't faze you, but sometimes it makes things awkward between friends." She moves to dry her hands before starting to assemble the ingredients for the dough first. "Do you have yeast?" Micah collects a bottle of olive oil and the packet of sun-dried tomatoes from the fridge to add to the growing pile of ingredients on the countertop. “No problem. Thank /you/ for the bakin'.” He unzips his Batsignal hoodie now that he's had some time to thaw out from being out-of-doors, a white T-shirt with a T-rex holding an adaptive reaching aide in each hand under the heading 'UNSTOPPABLE!' peeking out from underneath. “Oh...um. Apologies. Didn't mean t'be a nosy-face.” Blushing a bit brighter, he ducks down to retrieve baking supplies: sugar, flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and such, from a low counter full of sealed canisters. “Yeast, yes. Lemme...fridge.” After a little shuffling of items in the refrigerator, he returns with a small container of yeast, as well. "Nah, being nosy simply means you care. Me having actual female related body issues are, well, not exactly the end of the world. It's just a pain in the ass when the almost end of the world prevents a girl from getting the products she needs from her local store." Melinda smiles as she gets a small bowl of hot water and dissolves some sugar in it, leaving it aside as she reads the instructions on the side of the yeast container. She sets it down and tests the water temperature with her finger from time to time. "So, at what point do you not trust yourself with cornbread? Is it the measuring, the mixing...? I guess you could start on the chili too." She pauses, thoughtful. The front door unlocks, opens; Jackson is very /shivery/ as he makes his way inside, freshly home from a shift at the Clinic. There's a lingering crusting of snow on his boots that has not yet been stomped off in the climb up three flights of stairs. Even with his bundling of layers, coat, scarf, hat, he's shivering as he locks the door behind him, fingers numb-fumbling at the locks. "Guys, I found some winter. Outside." His teeth chatter between words. He stoops to begin the slow process of removing his boots and outerwear with fingers that don't /quite/ want to work yet. “Oh/gosh/, that would be an issue I didn't even think about.” Micah cringes a little. “Poor girls... Come t'think of it, how prepared d'you think the government's gonna be for handlin' a real serious snow? They ain't hardly got back t'regular business, much less... I guess they could bring in outside help, but that's gonna be slower an' stretchin' resources further since it ain't like the snow ain't fallin' on the /whole region/ equal.” He 'hms' at the question of the cornbread. “I can get it all mixed up an' in the pan, I just seem t'have a curse with the oven an' anythin' that ain't a casserole goin' in it. Either leave things in too long or panic an' try t'take 'em out too soon. More /complicated/ baked goods I can make a mess of /before/ the oven, too. So I can't blame that entire.” He giggles a little at himself. “Chili ain't gotta /oven/, so I figure I'll get that goin' once I got the cornbread mixed an' I'll let you watch the bakin' part?” The sound of the door opening steals Micah's attention for a moment, a broad smile drawing across his features. “Hihihi, Jax-honey!” The cold draft following Jax in reminds him to set the oven to pre-heat, with the added bonus of the kitchen being even warmer soon. “S'kinda a getting' t'be a mess out there. Mel an' I went shoppin' t'stock up. She's makin' some focaccia an' makin' sure I don't burn some cornbread, an' then there'll be chili, too.” He gives Jax a minute to free himself from cold weather gear before dashing over to wrap him in a hug, warmer from being /indoors/ if not for a significant contribution of his own body heat. "Oh. Well. I don't know. Snow plow personnel seem the hardy sort. I can only hope that enough of them survived November to help keep the city somewhat passable. Then again, maybe we should put the cooking on hold and head to the sporting goods store and stock up on snow shoes." Mel finally finds the water warm enough to drop in a measured spoon full of yeast into the sugar bath for proofing. She turns away and starts measuring flour when the door opens. "Or we can have arts and crafts time, all snuggled in warm, and make our own snow shoes." She pauses when Micah starts to greet Jax, lifting a hand to wave at the newcomer, hands still moving as if by rote. "We can put some tea or cocoa on for you, hun, if you need some internal warming." "I can tell you it ain't /nothin'/ but mess out there, half the streets 'tween here an' the clinic they ain't even pretended to start plowin'. I think it's gonna be ugly for a /while/." Jackson finally wriggles out of his boots, standing to put the rest of his outerwear in a closed. He pulls off his sunglasses last of all though even as he does so an eyepatch, blue edged in shiny silver, has materialized to hide the sunken eye beneath, "Cornbread, honey-honey, /why/ you even puttin' that in an oven, is it," he turns such a /large/ puppy-eying on Micah, "to make me sad? Has Virginia been /contaminated/ so far North? We got perfectly good cast-iron skillets just /dying/ to have cornbread made in 'em." The sad eying vanishes as he flashes a bright smile to Melinda. "Hi, sweetie! How you doin', hon? Oh, gosh, everything warm sounds good I'm basically an icicle." Which he demonstrates as he curls his arm around Micah to accept Hug, his own shivery chill all the more stark for its contrast to his usual heat. His cheek is chill where it presses to Micah's neck, and the hands he slips beneath Micah's shirt to press to the small of the other man's back are icy-cold. "Shouldn't have given that hug, though, might not let you /go/ till I've thawed." "/Maybe/ it was 'cause I knew it would summon y'home t'rescue me by doin' a better job of it," Micah teases back at the puppy-eyeing. "An' I'll /just/ make the chili while you two handle all the bread-goods. I bought extra maple syrup while I was out that'll be good for it, at least?" Any other protests, comments, or deflections are completely lost by the multiple touches of icy-skin to his own. He grips hold of Jax with /tight/ squeezing arms. "OH. Ohgosh, ohgosh. Someone stole m'husband an' replaced 'im with an attack icebeast, help!" He shivers right /back/ against the other man. Melinda raises an eyebrow and steps away from her baking to put hot water in the kettle and put it on the stove. "We'll start with tea because it's faster, but... are you really cold? Are you okay?" More genuine worry crosses her face as causes her lips to purse. "Do I need to get your sunlamps? I know it's been overcast lately." She rinses her hands off again and dries them on a towel before moving to warm mugs as well. "I will cornbread the heck out of things. After, um, I can use my fingers again." True to his threat, Jackson does not show any immediate inclination to let Micah go. He just moves his hands /upward/ to find /new/ warm skin once he has leeched the heat out of his initial placement. "You gonna wait out the apocalypse here with us again, Mel?" He doesn't move his head from where he has nestled it against Micah's shoulder. "The sunlamps on would be a blessing, outside it's just /storm/ an' I kinda bled myself dark dealin' with -- oh /gosh/ we got /real/ protesters now. Like signs an' yellin' an' /throwin' rocks/ an' everything." He sounds almost /charmed/ by this. "/Dedicated/, bein' out in this weather. Though I kinda pulled the short-straw on bein' stationed outside to make sure patients got in an' out safely -- downside of havin' shields is bein' expected to /use/ 'em. I ain't --" His brow creases at Melinda's worry, and he shrugs a shoulder. "Ain't in no /danger/ or nothin' but it's well on the far side of /comfortable/. Tea an' sunlamps an' focaccia an' chili sounds like nearabout the perfect recipe to set me right again though." “Of course y'can wait until your fingers--gah! Aren't freezin' m'skin off anymore, gracious.” Micah shivers again under Jax's chill touch. “Mel's gonna hang around with us, yeah. Thanks for startin' the tea, Mel. An' all kindsa agave for /you/, hon. There's some leftover potato leek soup from last night if y'need somethin' in ya /now/, too.” He pulls Jax in for another fierce hug at the report of protesters. “Nobody got hurt, did they? Ain't no good once protesters move on t'hurlin' objects about.” Melinda leaves the men to their hugging and heads off into the living room to find the sunlamps and move them closer. She plugs one in near the door, turning it on and pointing it at Jackson as best as possible. The second one she leaves on the kitchen counter to wait for Jax's inevitable trek to the kitchen. "Now, I don't think I've ever had cornbread in a cast iron skillet. I'm looking forward to that." She plugs in the second lamp and points it in Jax's direction as well, finding the whistling tea kettle a distraction from whatever else she has to focus on. "You ain't never had proper cornbread, now, /that/ is a tragedy I will rectify." Jackson is still shivering, a faint low-grade trembling against Micah. The breath he sighs out when the sunlamp switches on to him is shivery, too, practically a moan; he closes his eye, for a moment just absorbing the light. "Ohgosh thankyou. An' I been snackin' all day but I definitely could use the soup. -- I'm gonna change 'fore any cooking, though, I know it's only afternoon but I am /already/ ready for pajamas. An' fluffy warm socks." It is with a large dose of reluctance that he slides his hands out from under Micah's shirt, pulling away with another shiver. "No, no-- nobody got hurt, we done our jobs right. Just." His nose crinkles, smile quirking up crookedly. "Just ugly out there." “Jax /might/ could have some opinions on cornbread,” Micah informs Mel with a lopsided grin. He moves in to place a light kiss on Jax's temple, then pulls away to make it a little easier for the other man to go get changed. “You get all snuggly, an' I'll have soup ready by the time y'come out, most like.” Heading back to the kitchen, he retrieves the container of leftover soup from the refrigerator and fills a small saucepan with it to warm on the stove. Leaving all the baking materials aside for the other two to work on, he sets up yet another station at the kitchen table to start chopping vegetables for chili. "Tea'll be waiting for you when you get back too, hun." Melinda smiles as she fills some tea balls and puts them in the warmed cups, pouring hot water over the top. She sets the kettle on the back burner to keep it out of the way of cooking. She let the tea brew as she washes her hands once more, then turns back to baking. She moves to grind up some rosemary to put in with the flour. "Mmm. That soup smells good. You'll have to give me the recipe." "Micah you are talkin' about the food of my people." Jackson grins, disappearing off into the bedroom to change. When he returns it's in fluffy striped socks, black pajama pants, a bright yellow hoodie with Funshine Bear's smiley sun on the belly. His eyepatch has changed to match it, yellow with a smiley sun in the center. He turns the second sunlamp towards the kitchen as well, hands rubbing together as he enters the kitchen. "This keeps up, we'll be set to have a proper snow war by tomorrow. Like a -- rematch'a last year's." Though here his smile fades, brow wrinkling as his teeth wiggle at his lip ring. "Maybe not quite exactly rematch." Once Micah has finished chopping onions and carrots, he moves back into the kitchen to stir the soup. “This is almost done. Y'want some, too, Mel? It's actually pretty simple...I can jot things down an' e-mail it. We can just sit in an' cook an' eat all day, it'll be awesome.” He giggles, moving to pull down bowls from the cabinet and spoons from the silverware drawer. “Well, at least...some fun t'be had out in the park either way. Not /exac'ly/ a rematch, no. But maybe with fewer /cops/ bein' called on us, too?” He fills the first bowl with soup and passes it over to Jax. "Call it the semi-annual games and maybe it'll be more fun, different participants each year, hopefully longer hours before the game gets interrupted." Mel starts mixing together dough, the whole of it starting to take on the green tinge of spices. "When you guys get started on the cornbread and chili, I'm still going to need a burner for carmelizing the onions, okay?" She turns her head over her shoulder. "Unless one of you wants to do that? How long does cornbread take to cook on ... oh, do you cook it in the oven?" "Fewer -- yeah. Different participants each year." Jackson echoes this quietly, and then shakes his head, turning his attention to cornbread fixings. "Um -- 'bout -- twenty, twenty-five minutes on the stove? Don't need no oven. Oh, thank you, sweetie." He takes the bowl of soup, not bothering with a spoon and just lifting it to take a gulp straight from the bowl. "S'four burners, should be room for everything an' one to spare. Spence'll be well pleased with another giant snow /battle/, at the least. Even if he's a giant cheatyface about it." Micah fills another two bowls with the soup and moves the pot into the sink to fill with water and let cool a bit so it can be washed later. “Should be good. We can move the tea kettle aside if need be. Mine'll be all one pot, Jax's one skillet.” He takes his bowl and spoon back over to the table, pausing to swat playfully at Jax on his way. “Look who's callin' 'cheatyface'! Pretty sure he must learn it from you. Seem t'recall at least /one/ really shimmery /shield/ goin' up in the middle of last year's snow war.” He starts in on chopping some celery. "Ahh, remind me to stay off the front line between the lot of you." Melinda shakes her head then glances over at Jackson. "The tea is ready. Best get the balls out. It's herbal, so it's not over steeping. I wasn't sure about caffeine at this hour." She continues to knead the bread in the bowl before moving it aside. She then clears the counter, cleans it, and dusts it with flour to continue her kneading. "Thanks, Mel." Jackson straightens in sudden startlement at the swat, a dusting of pink flushing across his cheeks. The blush remains as he moves to remove the tea balls, emptying them into the compost and rinsing them clean. He sets a mug down on the table for Micah, taking his own to free counter space to start in on the cornbread. "Was a whole /lotta/ cheatin' goin' on last year, I'll grant you. Not near so bad as it is out at school -- never have snow fights with telekinetics. Or people who can go intangible. Or fly." “Oh, that's prob'ly for the best, Mel. Last year I ended up under an entire /wall/ of snow an'...Lucien, actually.” Micah's cheeks also tinge a faint pink, though whether of their own accord or in answer to Jax's is debatable. “An' I believe the twins started an actual physical altercation with some of the Morlocks, though I think it was friendly enough. Oh/man/ the school's gotta have the craziest snowfights! An' all that /land/ out there, can prob'ly find some good sleddin'. Weather report was sayin' Westchester would get it worse'n 'round here, too.” He adds the chopped celery to his growing piles of veggie bits, starting up on dicing a few potatoes. "Oh my. Did that blush keep both of you warm?" Melinda jokes quietly, then dampens a towel. She puts the dough back in the bowl and covers it with the towel and leaves the bowl alone to let it rise. She heads back to the sink to begin cleaning the mess she made on the counter. "I feel somewhat ill equipped to counter flying, intangible snowball throwers. I should have some type of scooping machine to compensate." She wipes the counter down quietly. "Are you guys going to go out to the school this weekend? Driving would be pretty treacherous." "Oh -- oh gosh. I mean," Jackson's blush deepens furiously. "There's worse places to end up under." He lifts his bowl to take another gulp of soup before returning to his cornbread-prep. "/Met/ Luci that weekend. Him an' Matt an' /you/ -- an' --" His gaze lowers to study his mixing bowl. "Yeah. They did mix it up with the Morlocks. But we all had cocoa t'gether after I don't think t'was any hostility in it." His nose wrinkles up, and he shakes his head quickly. "Oh -- oh gosh, no, I don't got /no/ plans to be drivin' in this that'd be painful. I /hope/ it clears up by Monday, though, we don't actually /have/ snow days at school -- kinda pointless since everyone lives there. 'cept -- makes it a sight harder for the coupla teachers what /don't/. We could," he skips off without pause to the next tangent, "build you a trebuchet. I bet B would." Micah finds a few darker shades of red, himself, between Mel's teasing and Jax's comment. "I'd /sort of/ tried that by stretchin' a glove over the forearm cuff on one of m'crutches an' usin' it t'fling snow without havin' t'come out from behind cover. Only works so well when they knock the cover down /on/ you, though." He chuckles, finishing dicing the last potato. The chopped onions get scooped back onto the cutting board and carried into the kitchen, where he starts them cooking with some olive oil in a stock pot. "I ain't plannin' on goin' /anywhere/ 'less there's some specific need t'do so. Other'n maybe just outside t'play with Spence when it's not too treacherous. D'they have a substitute system at the school for when folks are out or sick or whatever? Sure they could cover for you, in that case, if it's still a mess by Monday." Minced garlic and some spices added to the sizzling onions start to fill the kitchen with cooking-scents. Melinda takes a mug of tea and leans against the counter, sipping quietly as she watches the others work, unable to do too much prep for the time being. "Sounds like it was a good time all around and I'll definitely talk to Spence and the twins about supplies before engaging in snow sports in the future. Are they down for the weekend, or did they stay out at the school because of the weather?" She takes another sip and eyes her grocery bag from earlier. Smooth steps take her from her perch and out toward the door, leaving the bag by her coat for the time being. "B's at work. Shane an' Spence are next door. /I/ don't got no plans to leave the house till s'time for /church/ tomorrow. I'd hibernate till spring if I could get away with it." Jax turns to set a skillet on the stove, greasing it with a drizzle of oil to let it heat. "Don't imagine Shane'll much complain if he's gotta miss Monday class. B might have a freakout though. Um -- yeah, s'folks could cover my classes if need be. I guess /I/ wouldn't complain much about the long weekend." Such as it is, given he's worked today. "It was a -- it was a good time, yeah." He sounds a little bit wistful. "Was /just/ after the Mayor'd gone an' criminalized us though. Things still weren't that bad yet." “I mean...I guess y'could see if Joshua wouldn't mind droppin' y'all out there the /easy/ way on Monday, if need be. Since he's still a ferret, ain't like his dance card's all that full these days.” Micah frowns slightly, returning to the table. He stops for a few bites of soup and a sip of tea before retrieving the potatoes and carrots on his cutting board to add to the pot this time. He stirs at the whole mixture with a wooden spoon. “Anybody had any bright ideas yet on how t'get Joshua unferreted? I mean...we can't just leave 'im that way forever, can we?” "You know, I think he likes being a ferret," Melinda muses as she returns to the kitchen and grabs up her mug of tea. "Doesn't the girl who also have the power know the way out? She could try to explain it to him in ferret dance. I swear that's how they communicate." She stifles a little bit of a yawn and adjusts the lamp so it is pointing at Jackson a little more fixedly in his new position. "How are the batteries, filling up? Starting to feel better?" "He doesn't. Like being a ferret." Jackson turns to pour his batter into the skillet, covering it afterwards and pulling out his phone to set a timer. "I don't know if it's easy to explain. She's tried. She also was stuck as a ferret for the entire first almost a year that she had her power, so --" He presses his lips together, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He gulps down the rest of his soup, moving to the sink to wash that bowl and his mixing bowl. "I think I'm actually -- gonna lie down for a bit. I'll be back when -- that's done." He nods towards the cornbread-skillet. “I mean, yeah, he's a ferret. He seems pretty happy'n excited on the surface most of the time, but...” Micah nods in deference to Jax's more definitive statement. “Gosh, I hope he's not stuck a whole year figurin' it out. That's gotta be...so many kinds of disorientin', at best.” His lips compress, regarding the other two. “Everybody's gettin' all sleepy. Guess we made it /too/ warm'n comfy in here.” Before moving on to the next ingredients for his pot, he rests a hand on Jax's shoulder, leaning in to talk softly. “You sure you're okay? S'there anythin' else y'need?” "I can take over, if you like," Melinda remarks, smiling quietly at the couple. "You've had a long day at work, Jax and I'm sure Micah'd prefer to keep you company. Go. Rest. I'll manage the meal for a while." She moves to put her tea down and find the soup instead, peeking in Micah's pot as she passes it. Jackson answers Melinda with a thankful smile, leaning in to peck her lightly on the cheek. "You're an angel, honey-honey." He picks up his mug of tea, starting out of the kitchen but stopping with Micah's hand on his shoulder. He's lost his outdoor chill, though hovering at a more /average/ body temperature still feels rather cool on him. He starts to shake his head reflexively, but then touches his fingers to Micah's hand and shrugs his shoulder uncertainly. "Just -- kinda hit with a sad," he admits softly, "It's -- warm an' comfy in here I didn't really want to spread it." He tips his head sideways, cheek brushing against Micah's knuckles, and takes his tea off out of the kitchen and to his bedroom. "Won't take five minutes to finish gettin' the rest of the veggies in an' then settin' up the sauce. Already got most of the base spices in. Then...if y'wouldn't mind handlin' gettin' the beans added, all it's gotta do is simmer up for a good long time after that. S'all out on the counter already." Micah watches Jax with a look of clear concern. "I'll be in just in a bit, okay, hon? You go get comfy." He catches the other man's hand to place a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist before he's off. Then he fetches the remaining diced veggies back from the table, mixing them in the pot along with the tomato base and a few dashes of this and that, the way chili tends to go. "Thanks, hon," is directed to Mel. "Didn't mean t'bring you over an' then leave you in the kitchen. Should...prob'ly only be a bit." "No, Micah, it's no trouble." Melinda's brow is very wrinkled with concerned as Jackson starts to walk away. "He really shouldn't be alone if he's got a sad like that." Her lips purse, choosing to walk after Jax and grab him in a hug, should he allow it, while Micah finishes his cooking. Micah gives the pot one last stir and a nod, stopping to give /Mel/ a hug as well, before heading down the hall himself.