ArchivedLogs:Hookers and Blow

Hookers and Blow
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Shelby	2013-02-24 Made you look.
Location Iolaus's Apartment, East Harlem
Down a hallway and overlooking a open air market in El Barrio, Iolaus' apartment is not particularly a large one. It is three rooms - the main room shaped like an L with kitchen at one end, a small bedroom large enough for a full bed and a dresser, and a bathroom barely large enough to fit the bath inside it. The walls are a light yellow in the main room, with a large bookcase sitting against one wall and occupying much of the space, stuffed with books as it is. Two couches sit across from it, pressed up against the corner of the L shaped room. The kitchen is separated only by the transition from wood floor to grey tile and is sparsely filled with food and cookware both, and the bathroom is equally sparse of accouterments. In fact, were it not for the full bookcase and the clothing hanging in the closet, it would look almost as if the occupant had moved out and left some few things behind in a hurry. For once, Iolaus' apartment is /clean/. Very clean, actually. The scent of soap still hangs in the air, and everything from the tiled floor of the kitchen to the couches have been cleaned - quite possibly by the steam cleaner that sits in a corner of the kitchen awaiting its return. Another scent hangs in the air - a somewhat crisp smell of lemongrass and fish, simmering merrily in the steel pan. The oven is on as well, but its only occupant is a black cast-iron pan, upside-down, dripping oil onto a tinfoil sheet. Iolaus tends the fish carefully, turning it on the pan with a spatula, shirtless, but with an apron on. The key rattles in the lock and the front door swings open a moment later, admitting one Shelby, a guitar case and a backpack. All three look the worse for wear, somewhat damp and bedraggled, though she does tap the worst of the slush off of her sneakers before stepping inside. A very suspicious look goes around the apartment--checking more for Lucien than trying to figure out why the /clean/ all of a sudden--before she dumps her burdens and follows her nose to the kitchen. The jacket stays on, puffed up around her head as she lifts her shoulders, turtles her head down and shoves her hands into her pockets. Iolaus is studied, narrow-eyed. "...hey." "Hey, Shelby." Iolaus says, looking over her with a warm smile. There are a smattering of purple bruises on his neck and shoulders, some partially hidden underneath the dark cloth of the apron. "I was just cooking some fish. Have you eaten, or would you like some?" he asks, flicking his eyes up and down her in examination. He scrapes the fish off of the bottom of the pan and flips it carefully. Shelby's eyes flick over each visible bruise and though they are already narrowed, they become blue-green slits at the evidence spied there. "I'm not hungry," she says firmly, shoulders hunching just a little more. "You want him to mark you up like that? Last time /I/ looked like that, it sure as hell wasn't with someone I liked. You look like a date rape, Doc." The words are as blunt and hurtful as she can make them, any concern she might be feeling hidden behind that sour aggression she's so very good at. "You look like a date rape who's steamed the place for evidence." Iolaus gives her a bemused look, eyes twinkling. "I don't think you want the details. Suffice it to say, it was very much consenting, and I enjoyed myself very much." he says, a mischievous glint flashing for a moment in his expression. "The steam cleaning was more for your benefit than mine." He winks and glances back to his food to press the fish back down into the pan. "I thought you'd prefer that to lying in stale cum." It's hard to say which Shelby dislikes more--what he says or how he looks while he says it. She pulls a face at him and turns her back to stomp back towards the entryway where she can shed jacket and shoes to shove both into the closet. "Fucking Lucien," she might be heard saying. Louder, then: "So how much is he charging you? He told me the going rate was two grand an hour. Kinda seems like a stupid thing for pay for right now while you're living in a dump, saving up for your clinic." "If you think this is a dump, you really haven't lived some of the places I've lived." Iolaus says, bemusement still threaded through his tone. "And I'm not using clinic money to pay him, so I can't see how it matters much one way or another. Considering I'm fund raising for more than a hundred times what I make in a year, I don't think the difference in my contributions is going to be significantly changed one way or another." He opens the fridge and pulls out a new package of thyme, which he sprinkles over the fish. "It fucking /matters/," Shelby sputters, "because /I/ get shit for sleeping on your couch and /he/ charges you two grand an hour for a lay! And...and...beating the /shit/ out of you!" She's back in the kitchen doorway again. There is a flailing of hands, waving every which way as she gives into the dark side. Were she a Jedi, Iolaus would currently be under attack by fish and frying pans. "If /I/ fucked you would it be okay? Son of a /bitch/!" Her anger rolls right off of Iolaus. "He didn't /beat/ the shit out of me, Shelby. Left a few marks, but, that's hardly S&M." He says, dryly. "And, as we covered when we first met, you are quite safe from any advances from me." he raises one eyebrow, studying her for a moment. "Why does it bother you so much?" he asks, curiously. "/Because/." That's all the answer Iolaus is going to get because Shelby flees from the question after, to throw herself on the couch in a sulk. Her arms fold over her chest, blocking out Che's face on her t-shirt. Her jaw juts out. Apparently the impact from landing has jolted out a possible reply though. She spits it out, like venom. "Because he isn't /any/ different from me, he just charges more, but /I/ get the shit from him for what /I/ do. Hypocritical fucker. /Literally/." "You're a sex worker?" Iolaus asks, surprised, but not with any judgement in his voice. "I don't know what you two talked about or what was said, but... I can't imagine he has any problem with you doing sex work. As long as everyone involved knows it is what it is." he says, carefully, turning his eyes back to the fish to check the pinkness of the insides. The noise that Shelby makes at that point is indecipherable. Wordless, garbled and full of clotted frustration, it is. One of the couch pillows is snatched up to throw at the door to the kitchen. Whumph. "/NO/! He acts like he's better than me and all he does too is /take/. He's taking your fucking money, I took your fucking couch. And then he...he acts like he's so much /better/. Because he charges all that money and has nice fucking clothes, because he's happy to bend over and take it in the ass. It's not /fair/, how's that better than me?" Not done yet. Iolaus turns his attention from the fish back to Shelby, looking over her for a moment. "One is business, the other is not. I think that's, perhaps, what he was trying to tell you. Yes, he takes my money, and the money of people much richer than I am. But he also gives back, and I, and him, and everyone else, know exactly what is going on. But I leant you my couch, looking for nothing in return. I was happy to do it - and still am - but it's not the same." "Then he needs to not give me shit about it. Or be...be whispering in your ear about me. That's none of his God damn business. I hate him. He's not my fucking father." Shelby sinks back into the cushions and refolds her arms, glaring at the bookshelf. After a few seconds of this, she sniffs at the air. Quietly. So as not to give away the fact that she is doing so. Iolaus gives her another look, this one quietly amused. "He's not... whispering in my ear about you, I can assure you of that, Shelby. No more than you are about him." He turns back to the fish, turning the heat up and bringing out two plates from the cabinet. "I need to get back in the habit of cooking more often. It's so much cheaper, and if I do it far enough in advance, I should have the time." he murmurs, mostly to himself. "That's bullshit, Doc, and you know it. He was going on about me getting a job not even a day before you suddenly brought it up. If he'd stop interfering in /my/ life maybe I'd stop bitching about him." Grump grump grump. Shelby's expression has grown distracted though. She cocks her head when the plates are heard emerging. "It smells good," she says after another pause, only somewhat grudging. "I had been thinking about it for a while. Ever since I heard about the school, actually." Iolaus says, nodding once in acquiescence. "He did advise me on it, but I asked him to." He crumbles dried lemongrass across the plates, then slices the fish in half with a sharp motion with the spatula. He carefully places the fish in the center of the two plates, then drizzles a clear sauce over the top of the two plates in a zig-zag motion. "I hope so. It's been years since I made it. I cooked myself almost every meal for many, many years. Of course, I never used this kind of fish, but..." he shrugs, with a wry smile. "There are some advantages to not being a poor college student anymore." The silence drags out longer this time before Shelby mutters, "Well, don't do that again. Talk to him about me. He doesn't know shit about me or what I want or need." Some mild element of hurt lurks under that demand, and she may or may not knuckle at scrunched eyes before shoving herself up off of the couch. Right! The teen stalks away from her depression with chin up, reappearing in the kitchen with the intent of helping...now that Iolaus has pretty much finished everything by himself. "I can cook," she volunteers. "I mean...kinda. Not fancy like this but if you ever had anything in your fridge..." "I've stocked it a bit more, now, and I'll be ordering food more regularly." Iolaus says, sliding one of the plates over towards her, complete. The only work required is the eating kind of work. "I think once we go public, I'll probably be cooking one or two days a week and freezing the rest. You could help me then, if I'm doing it on the weekends and you're around." "Yeah?" Shelby allows herself to show some bemusement as she studies the dish, then glances at the fridge, the cabinets. "Damn, Doc. Cleaning, cooking, making sure there's food...you pregnant or something? Should've used a condom, dude. Ain't no one wants ass-babies." Having ensured the loss of appetite of anyone with normal sensibilities, she reaches for her fork to begin demolishing the fish. Her cheeks are full within seconds but she talks through the mouthfuls even so. "How's 'sat goin' anyway? Clinic." "More like a squirrel stocking up before winter," Iolaus comments, with a wry smile. He chooses to ignore the comments on his possible pregnancy, and instead, responds to the later of her questions. "It's going well. We've began demolition on the site. We should be breaking ground soon. Hive has all the details." he says, putting the pan on a cold burner and picking up his own plate. "Fundraising is... as well as can be expected, and hiring has been going mostly smoothly." Shelby tongues her current bite into her cheek and mumbles, "Winter's half over," completely missing the point. But she seems to be enjoying the fish, in spite of its fanciness. Small sounds of enjoyment are made between the clink and clatter of fork against plate. She's content to eat at the counter but does glance over, when he goes for his plate. Watching, maybe, to see where he goes with it. "S'good. That it's going...good. Y'know? I'm glad." She looks down again and resumes breaking up the fish. "How's Hive doing? Haven't seen him since I started school." Iolaus picks up his plate and carries it over to one of the two couches - the one that Shelby had not been sitting on before - and plops down into it. He picks up his fork and cuts a piece off of it, swirling it around in the sauce and lemongrass before putting it in his mouth. He waits until he swallows before he continues. "Hive's doing alright. He finished the clinic design, which is nothing short of an incredible feat. That's the kind of project that would take an entire firm months and months to do, and he did it alone in less time." His tone shows just how impressed he is with this. Shelby trails along afterward with her own plate and resumes her place on the other couch, holding the plate high while she gets her legs tucked in under her. "Yeah, he's pretty amazing," she says as if /proud/ of the young man, or in some way entitled to share pleasure from his accomplishments. "How big's the place gonna be, anyway? I don't think you ever said. What'd it gonna look like?" Iolaus nods and smiles. "Fairly big. I mean... not as big as the school, or a hospital, but it's going to be large. I have the..." he glances around, frowning slightly. "I /had/ the blueprints around here, somewhere." he adds, quieter. "I must have cleaned them up. Uh... well, I can show it to you when you're here next week." he says, smile flashing apologetically. "Maybe Lucien took them," Shelby suggests, with a little snark. But she rolls her shoulders afterwards, shrugging off the opportunity to see the blueprints. "I wouldn't even know what I was looking at, s'okay. It's pretty cool though...I mean, I didn't think they'd let you even get started on it, so that's like...kinda worth a hookers and blow party, huh?" "Well," Iolaus' lips curl up into a wry look, and he shrugs his shoulders. "It's easy enough for them to let us get started and never actually open. The first day we are allowed to open our doors and see patients - that's when I'll celebrate. Before then, it's just wishful thinking and hopes." "Nothing wrong with that, huh? I mean, no matter what people say, you don't got the thinking and the hoping, where you gonna go?" Shelby tilts her head, scraping up the last of her piece of fish and popping it into her mouth. Her lips purse as she chews. Apropos of nothing, she says, "I'm gonna be on TV." "Very much." Iolaus says, cutting off another piece of fish. "On TV? What are you going to be on TV for?" he asks, curiously, leaning forward to peer closer on Shelby. "Is this your way of telling me you robbed a bank or something?" he asks, voice light and teasing. "And I should expect the police to be knocking on my door?" Shelby does him the courtesy of swallowing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before sticking her tongue out at him. "Screw you, Doc," she returns, in much the same vein. "You ever hear of Alison Blaire? The chick on TV? She's gonna do a spot on the show next month, at the Bowery. I'm opening up for Ryan." "Ryan?" Iolaus asks, one eyebrow raising. "Who is Ryan?" he blinks several times, leaning back against the couch even as he lifts the fork to his lips once more to have another piece of fish. "I know who Alison Blaire is, though. That must be exciting! It sounds like your music career is beginning to take off." "Hive's roommate. He's a DJ, pretty big shit in the scene right now. And he's...I dunno if he's just helping out a friend of a friend of his or what. Hive says he isn't. But yeah. If I keep working at it, maybe." Shelby rests the plate in the hollow between her crossed legs and smiles for the first time since she's arrived. "But when I'm rich and famous, I could totally pay back the couch rental." Iolaus laughs, but his response is quite serious. "You don't have to pay me back, Shelby. I'm not giving you a loan by letting you crash here. I'm just letting you crash here. I don't expect anything in return, as long as you are working to better yourself." he says, taking another bite of his fish. "You know? Now, of course, I wouldn't say no to a donation to the clinic once you make your first million." A wink. "Yeah, well. Business is better, right? Keeping it that way. So you're gonna be first on the list," she says before she hops up to return to the kitchen to deposit the plate and fork in the sink. Shelby runs water over both of them. "Anyway, I was just gonna stop by before some shit I wanted to get done this afternoon. You want anything while I'm out?" "Business isn't better. It's different, but it's not better." Iolaus says, softly, giving the teenager a careful look. He pauses, watching her for a moment. "Nah, I'm fine, Shelby. Thanks for the offer, though." he says, flashing her a wide smile. He takes another fork of fish and puts it back in his mouth, shrugging. "I'll see you tonight, then, I guess." "Maybe!" Shelby emerges to go step into her shoes, struggle into her coat. Matters of different and better are ignored. "I might have a date tonight, I dunno yet. I wouldn't wait up for me is what I'm sayin'," she says as she does up the zipper. "Don't miss me too much, huh?" Iolaus grins. "Good luck, then. Be safe. Don't do anyone I wouldn't do." he jokes, giving her a little bit of a wave. "I won't. If I'm up, say hello. Otherwise, keep yourself out of trouble, yeah?" he says, with an affectionate glance. "Fuck, that means no experimenting with the ladies, huh? Good thing I already went through that phase," the teen pops back at him. Shelby tosses the keys in her palm, flashes him a grin and ventures out--neither confirming nor denying whether she will indeed keep herself out of trouble.