ArchivedLogs:One of These Days

One of These Days
Dramatis Personae Ion, Micah, Jax, Rasheed, Switzerland	11 May 2014 Brunch, brain chips, and flirting. (Part of the Prometheus TP.)
Location <NYC> St. Martin's Church – Harlem
St. Martin de Porres Catholic Church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the alter, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air. Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand. Mass has just ended for the day -- well, 8:30 am Mass has ended, at least; there'll be several /more/ before Sunday is through. But Ion has completed his requisite stint of holiness and can get back on to being a sinner for the week, which is possibly why he's already out back behind the outside basement door in slacks and tie and dress shirt, lighting up a smoke and passing a small flask over to the man he is currently standing next to. The other man is taller, bony and angular, the shaved stubble of his head rather prominently displaying the scars wrapping around the sides of his skull. "Look, Paz," Ion is taking a first long drag of his smoke, blowing it out towards the back alley and away from the inside of the church basement, "no one gonna /make/ you do nothing. You stay, you go, you join their motherfucking --" He waves his cigarette-hand vaguely in the air, "superheroing around, it's all on --" Switzerland just laughs, dipping his head with a small twitch of smile as he takes a swig from the flask. "I would be. The most useless superhero. Can you imag --" "I can /so/ fucking imagine, man," Ion is cutting in over him, "I think you mean /best/ superhero. You walk in work is goddamn /over/ nobody's taking /any/ shots." Micah was mostly just here to deliver Jax to mass. And to pick him up afterward. Since he was going to be hanging around anyhow, he set himself up to make brunch for the refugees (and whoever else finds themselves needing brunch) in the form of dozens of assorted flavours of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a massive pot of grits. Out of habit, both pancakes and grits were vegan and kept well away from the contamination of eggs and bacon. After most of the kitchen mayhem is at an end, he finds his way into the alley with a large black garbage bag that betrays his purpose there, as it is full and in need of a new home out in the bins in the back. He is dressed a little nicely to match everyone else's Sunday garb, apparently, a sage green button-down worn over charcoal grey slacks and nicer shoes. His hair is a tousled mess and the outfit still covered over in what looks to be a well-loved apron borrowed from the kitchens. "Hey guys," he greets the pair with a warm smile as he passes. "Beg pardon for the interruption." Jax is just trotting down the stairs from the chapel up above, dressed springtime-bright in sunny yellow suit, blue tie, soft blue makeup, glinting metallic-blue nails. He has a contrastingly informal messenger bag slung over his hip, hand draped against it; he habitually passes by the kitchen on his path through the basement, aaalmost going to pick up one of the cookies (coconut oatmeal) that he brought in this morning and dropped off before mass but pulling himself away reluctantly instead. OK no cookies. He eyes them wistfully and, instead, after taking a nice deep breath of tasty breakfast-smells, just scoots off towards the sound of Micah's voice. He pokes his head out the back door with a bright smile, reaching to squeeze Ion's shoulder and give Switzerland a cheerful nod before peering past them towards his husband. "Hey, y'all. Hiii honey. Was it you who got all breakfasty? It smells good in there. -- Why are we shootin' at you?" His smile turns into a squint at Switzerland. "Well I -- hope we're not," Switzerland answers, softly amused. "I'm hard to shoot at, anyway." He holds out Ion's flask in offering to Micah first, then Jax. "It's no interruption. We're just --" "Making this boy some /life plans/," Ion tells Micah brightly, lifting a hand to clap Jax on the back in return; both the shoulder-squeeze and the back-pat come with small transferring zaps of energy. Zzp zzp. "I tell him, now he out, he can do any-damn-thing, right? This man, he know." Ion snaps his fingers, pointing at Micah. "He move up this city in a fucking van. That's, what they say, /America/, right? Make anything of yourself." Rasheed has not been to church this morning. He looks dressed to fit in fine, though. Dark slacks, pale dress shirt, dark tie, polished shoes. He is walking down the stairs quickly, a puffy envelope held in one hand. His dark eyes scan the basement, looking into kitchen and dining room before someone in the latter points him off towards the back. He wanders towards the exit with a small inclination of head, stopping a short distance from the exit. "Ion. Mr. Pressel. Jackson." With Micah out tending trashbags he doesn't yet notice the last of the party from his position indoors. His eyes linger on Switzerland appraisingly. Then the flask. His brows lift, slightly. "How are you recovering?" Micah deposits the bag into one of the large, metal cans in the back--the type that look like Oscar the Grouch is going to pop out of them at any moment. He pulls a little bottle of lemony scented sanitiser out of his pocket and rubs it onto his hands before turning back to address the others. "Hi, hon." His smile broadens as he leans in for a quick kiss from Jax, avoiding hugs for now due to his flour and grease spattered apron. "Yep. Figured I'd make m'self useful while everyone else was off bein' churchy. There's still a lotta leftovers. The pancakes're vegan if y'want...though I dunno if y'do since drownin' things in syrup's off the table. The banana walnut ones aren't /too/ sugary, though. An' the grits are garlic an' soy cheese." His eyebrows raise slightly at the other discussion. "Ohgosh, I vote for the /not/ shootin' at anybody. If I get a vote?" A nod of agreement answers Ion's assessment. "Sure thing, plans are fun. What're you interested in?" He raises a hand in greeting to Rasheed. "Mornin', Dr. Toure." "Oh, gosh, banana walnut that sounds heavenly." Jax returns the kiss lightly, waving away the offered flask. "... though heavenly/er/ swimmin' in a boat of maply syrup," he laments. He rests a hand against the doorframe, leaning there as he considers Switzerland with sudden bright curiosity: "... could I shoot at you if you /wanted/ t'be shot at? -- Oh gosh hi, sir!" He straightens with a smile and a dip of his head to Rasheed. "G'mornin'. How're you doin', Doctor?" "I was in school before -- all this." Switzerland's fingers brush across his shorn head, his weight leaning back against the wall just to the side of the door. "But I don't think I was really all that invested. I'd like --" He shakes his head, gulping from the flask again and passing it back to Ion. "Oh. I forget. It's strange, you know..." But whatever he was going to finish this thought with, he doesn't, just trailing off and tipping his head back to look at the sky. He laughs at Jax's question, hitching up one shoulder. "I've never wanted to be shot. But it maybe depends? There's a weird loophole, you know -- if you just think shooting me is genuinely the right thing to do you might get away with it. You don't, ah, have a gun on you, do you?" He's glancing over Jax with a small curl of smile. "This boy /is/ a fucking gun," Ion answers, but immediately winces. "... maybe outta bullets just this minute. But that, they gonna fix that for you, huh? They have to." He takes his flask back, screwing its cap into place and sliding it into a pocket as he pulls another puff of smoke in. "Oh, man, Doctor, que tal? We're taking good care of him, don't you worry. You near done your braining?" Switzerland stands up a little straighter, greeting Rasheed with a smile. "Dr. Toure. I'm -- well. Thank you. I thought it would be -- much worse than it has been. You're kind of a lifesaver." Rasheed lifts a hand, knobbly knuckles pressing to his lips to stifle a small smile. "Braining -- ah. I don't --" He drops his hand, giving his head a small shake. "Oh, Micah, hello. And yes. After tomorrow everyone should be all set to --" He turns his hand up, unfurling his fingers towards Switzerland. "Well. Whatever you decide it is you want to do." His brows crease faintly at Ion's mention of Jax being currently /unloaded/, lips compressing. "How /have/ you been feeling?" The whole conversation about shooting at Switzerland just earns a small wince. "That may be all a theory you don't really need to be testing, I hope." "Apologies, hon. There's some blueberries an' things left from the other pancakes, too." Micah's eyes widen at the continued shooting conversation. "Ohgosh, that's a terrible loophole. Don't most people as are gonna a shoot at a body think that it's the right thing t'be doin' at the time? Regardless of how messed up their definition of 'right' is. Let's just...keep folks outta the line of fire, how 'bout? Prob'ly we can find you /some/ kinda career path that's better'n bein' used as a shootin' target. Just prob'ly." "Well, what kinda right are we talkin'? Are we talkin' like /necessary/? Cuz I think most folks feel like it's probably necessary but /most/ people probably don't /feel/ right about it even so," Jax muses, "I mean --" He stops very abruptly, cheeks flushing dark and his eye dropping to the ground firmly away from everyone else here. "Lo siento," he apologizes softly, "this is really -- not a line of -- I shouldn't'a brung up --" He presses his palm to his cheek, shaking his head quickly. "Oh /gosh/," he brightens again though his blush and awkward avoidance of looking at either Switzerland /or/ Micah continues as he glances up to Rasheed, "you're near done, that's amazin', so Hive'll be able to get back to -- oh, gosh, /thank/ you you're always so -- I don't know what we'd'a /done/ without you all this past year." His hand slides up further, rubbing fingers against his temple at the question. "Me? Tired all the time, mostly. They still ain't figured out nothin' about -- how to /undo/ --" His voice quivers and falls off for a moment but starts up again firmly. "But I'm feeling alright mostly now that we're managin' my eating -- um, s'far as we can tell it kinda shut off my /powers/ without like -- compensatin' for all the not-human parts /they'd/ been compensatin' for /before/ so it's thrown my metabolism into all kindsa crazy. But I'm doin' alright?" "No, I'm -- sorry, I'm unclear." Switzerland presses his lips together, brow furrowing. "But I'm unclear because /it/ isn't always clear? But --" He flicks fingers at Jax with a small nod. "Maybe right wasn't the right word. It's not about feeling /justified/, just --" He shakes his head, looking back up at the sky. "It /was/ a confusing loophole," he admits softly. "It was an interesting insight, in the labs. There were some of the techs who couldn't manage to deal with me because they'd lose the will to carry out their experiments and -- they mostly had to use the same two all the time because they -- didn't even really see us as human at all. So they really /had/ no ill intent? Any more than you'd feel /malicious/ towards that trash you just threw out. But it makes it -- odd. Probably someone with absolutely no conscience could get away with a lot." "Tcch," Ion is just shaking his head at this, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, "Mutant is fucked the hell up, yo. What sense does that make? You tell me. So what, I could kill you if I did it with /love/?" "Well -- yes," Switzerland answers, with a small smile. "It didn't stop Dr. Toure wanting to cut my skull open, because he was doing that to help me. I suppose if I /liked/ being hurt and we both -- agreed to --" He waves his hand uncertainly. "I don't think it would stop /consensual/ injury. If you came at it from a positive place." Ion just shakes his head again, and glances over at Jax. "Eating? What's wrong with you eating now? Why you apologizing for pancakes anyway," he asks Micah, "pancakes is the shit I'm gonna have like twelve. You like pancakes, Doctor, Cyborg cooked us up a feast. Can be like a thank-you-for-slicing-brains feast yeah?" "I haven't had breakfast yet," Rasheed acknowledges in a distracted murmur, eyes flicking between Switzerland and Jax with thoughtful interest. "I can still see -- many situations where that would get dangerous. Hm. Maybe you could stick to some profession with no beating, shooting, or -- maiming of any kind." His forefinger taps against the envelope he holds, brows creasing further. "I'm glad to hear it's being managed, at least. I'm sure Dr. Saavedro is taking good care of you. I -- actually came hoping to find you. You had asked if I could get you these -- intact. One of these is actually Switzerland's," he admits apologetically as he proffers the envelope to Jax, "though I don't know if he'll want it back, really." "Yikes, yeah. I'm just gonna stick with m'original vote of 'no shootin'." Micah just shakes his head at this, finally remembering just now to take off his apron. It takes him a minute to work out the knot tied behind his back. "Oh, what Jax means is that when the whole depowerin' thing happened? It messed up the way his body always needs t'burn through a ton of sugar, so s'like bein' diabetic now. I was apologisin' for makin' things he usually eats covered in maple syrup, on account'a he can't really have that right now." He nods to Rasheed to second the invitation to brunch. "Yep, there's plenty of food still. Pancakes come in blueberry, dark chocolate chip, an' banana walnut. Got bacon an' eggs, an' some garlic soy-cheesy grits. Pancakes an' grits are both vegan. I just realised I don't know your dietary preferences at all." Micah eyes the bag in Rasheed's hand as he folds his apron messy-side-in to avoid spreading said mess. "Ohgosh. Those are the brain chips? Guess we got that much more research t'get started, then. Thank you. For all your help, Doctor." "Yeah um sorry I don't. Explain things good but. My powers usually handled my -- sugar -- ing. And don't no more." Jax shrugs a shoulder, sucking his upper lip in between his teeth rather than his lower, what with its fresh piercings. He steps forward at Switzerland's explanation, quietly lifting a hand to squeeze at the other man's shoulder. "Yeah okay no shootin' does seem pretty much like the best plan. That's --" His teeth bite harder at his lip. "I jus' never can get how -- how they can manage t'convince themselves what they're doin' is --" A shudder passes through him, though it calms as he reaches to take the envelope from Rasheed. "Oh, gosh. Thank you, Doctor. This is -- we've needed -- oh /gosh/, s'good t'have jus' that much more a spot'a /hope/ in all this." "Ohhh. So what you can eat now? All I ever see you eating is the sugar. Fucking -- hummingbird, this one." Ion frowns at Jax, pulling in another deep breath of cigarette. "You gonna die?" "Can we stay away from dying? Not just shooting?" Switzerland shakes his head at the notion. "You just gave us all back our lives, I'd hate --" He lifts his hand, fingers closing in slow squeeze against Jax's hand at the touch to his shoulder. His thumb brushes against Jax's knuckles, eyes fixing on the envelope. With a deep breath, he shakes his head. "I'm glad to have that out of my life." His hand falls away from Jax's, and he turns to head back inside. "Think I'm going to grab some breakfast." "So now you got the brains-chip who's gonna look at them?" Ion waves his cigarette hand towards the envelope. "Running low on nerds. Dusk gone. I just punched that other asshole in the face the other day." "Punched --" Rasheed blinks, but doesn't ask. Instead he just drops his hand to his side, taking a step back; the habitual slouch of his stooped shoulders falls just a little bit further. "People convince themselves of -- all kinds of things when they think what they're doing is -- necessary." He shakes his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I hope it helps." He nods towards the envelope. "If I can help in any way -- I'll be around." He glances after Switzerland, straightening slightly. "Breakfast does sound good." With a small nod, he turns to head off towards the food as well. "Thanks again, Doctor. Hope you enjoy the food," Micah calls after the departing pair. "Figure if there's /several/ of the things, could give one t'every person we /know/ as has the know-how an' will t'poke at 'em. B an' Peter could play with one. Maybe Regan. Don't know if that kinda tech's somethin' Dr. McCoy could play with." Micah just shrugs at this point, expression clouding at the mention of Dusk. "He's not /gone/. Just away. Gone's too final." His head tilts suddenly. "Punched who now?" "We jus' might need t'call in your help on these, we might could find folks t'look at the tech but figurin' out just /what/ it's doin' brainwise --" Jax's hands spread in front of him. "Thank y'again, Doctor. -- An' I /ain't/ dyin'," he assures Ion with a wrinkle of his nose. "Jus' gotta be a little bit more careful 'bout my eatin' is all. Or -- maybe /differently/ careful. Eatin' wrong still got me all kindsa messed up even before." He looks down at the mention of Dusk, too, shaking his head. "He ain't gone, he's. The kids is out lookin' for him now an' everything, he'll --" He runs his hand over the top of his head, curling his other arm across his chest. His brows lift at the mention of punching, a silent echo of the question Micah asks aloud. "Other nerd," Ion clarifies. "From your building. One who killed your security. Saw him the other day and I gave a punch --" He taps a finger against his jaw, frowning after this. "Some things, you just lose your temper, yeah? And I thinked, maybe if Dusk he'd /had/ his home, none of this --" His head shakes, and he blows out a cloud of smoke. "Done though. All done now. I buyed for him a beer after the punching. And lunch. You think B he could figure that out? Regan, man, she full-up on time now she's a real-proper-doctor. She started that, whats-it-call. I don't know. Doctoring in a hospital thing." "Yeah, no more dyin' allowed. Strictly against the rules," Micah seconds. It is readily apparent the moment Ion's clarifications reveal an identity to Micah, colour springing to his cheeks with cartoonish speeds. "Oh. Oh. I guess everythin' is...alright, then? If there was havin' lunch after. Dunno...B's right clever with tech things. Sure ze would like t'fuss at it an see what ze can see. An' doctors...no matter how busy they are, seem t'find time for pet projects. With her area of specialty bein' neuroprosthetics? Kinda thing seems like it'd be right up her alley. Worth presentin' t'her at least." "Ohgosh." Jax's cheeks flush deep red, too, his head shaking. "That's -- you can't --" He pulls in a deep breath, scrunching his eye shut. "... things are okay between y'all, then?" His knuckles scrub against his eye, and he opens the padded envelope to peek inside. "S'a few. Can jus' -- farm 'em out t'people, hope someone figures out /somethin'/. It's -- it's a million times more'n we've had t'go on before. I'm --" He looks up, a small smile on his face. "Actually feelin' kinda – hopeful." "Neuro -- what's that one mean?" Ion shakes his head uncertainly. "Don't know that word. I think she'd like to do a help? Because fuck she sure-as-hell like to punch these labs in the face. Get some more people out safe, yeah? Just might take a little time to get a results in between her. Doctoring stuff." He shrugs at the question of Doug. "Sure? I bought a beer yeah? Was just some punching. Sometimes someone deserves a punch, you know how it is. Best get it out the way, get on with life." "S'good t'see," Micah replies to Jax's declaration of hopefulness, his own smile answering his husband's. He wraps an arm around the other man's shoulders now that he's quit of the messy apron. "S'working mechanical parts t'be compatible with the nervous system. Pretty much exactly this kinda stuff, but usually with more /helpful/ intentions." He can't help but laugh a little, shaking his head at Ion's nonchalance with the whole issue. "I guess that's one way of lookin' at things. Can't say I've been in too many punchin' situations in m'life. But. S'long as everyone's okay." "I think some people just got kinda punchier --" Jax's nose crinkles, his weight shifting to lean in against Micah's side, arm curling around his husband's waist. "-- lives. I guess there's -- somethin' t'be said for it, though. /Does/ kinda get it outta the way, save on all the -- /grudge/ an' lettin' things /stew/ an' bein' angry forever. You don't really seem like a be-angry-forever type," he tells Ion with a laugh. And then abruptly, "Oh, gosh. M'supposed t'be meetin' Sean for a coffee I'm totally flakin' oh gosh." He tips his head up to press a light kiss to Micah's jaw. "You down for caffeine-ing?" "Angry forever, that sounds like -- making really tired." Ion shakes his head, hand lifting to scrunch fingers into his loose curls. He drops his cigarette from his other hand, stubbing it out against the concrete with one toe. "World's got a lot of great, kind of a waste being angry. You go get caffeine, yeah? I get your husband's /delicious/ cooking. You tell me," he leans in to ask this kind of conspiratorially of both other men, "where I can get my own amazing cyborg." "Yeah, I guess I just usually don't do...fit-to-punch angry so often. More of the annoy people t'death with excessive talkin' type. Guess /some/ folks'd prob'ly prefer t'just get it over with with the punchin' instead, though." Micah chuckles at this, leaning into Jax a little more. "Sure can. You'll be needin' a lift wherever it is you're meetin' 'im, anyhow. I won't object t'some fancy coffee an' good company." His smile blooms just a little brighter at the kiss. "Thanks, hon. Eat up, s'what it's there for. Guess we're a little harder t'come by than average... But Jax don't seem t'mind loanin' me out occasionally, so. There's that." He bonks his forehead into Jax's shoulder with a giggle. "Have a good one." Jax's arm squeezes a little tighter around Micah, his cheeks darkening slightly in time with his own quiet laugh. "I do share," he tells Ion, "so I s'pose you get one jus' right here, if y'ask him an' he says yes." His hand rubs against Micah's side, and he kisses at the other man's jaw again before releasing Micah to step forward and give Ion a tight hug. "See y'round, sweetie." Ion's smile is bright as well, a little crooked as he bobs his head in a nod at this answer. "Yeah, hm? Share? Can I ask for package-deal then? Double the amazing at once. Bring you on /both/ home, maybe." He returns Jax's hug fiercely, offering one to Micah as well before he turns to head back inside. Micah returns the hug with a tight squeeze of his own, cheeks reddening brightly again at that last comment. "We do make a good team," he answers with a light chuckle and a small shrug. "C'mon, then. Let's un-flake you for this coffee date." His arm wraps back around Jax's waist to lead him inside, to drop off the apron and gather his things, before heading for the van. "Ohgosh." Jax's cheeks flood with crimson, his nose crinkling up with his bright grin. "I mean, I wouldn't -- say no t'--" He doesn't finish this thought, just rubbing at the back of his neck as Ion heads off. "... I don't even know where home /is/ for him," he suddenly realizes, glancing back over his shoulder. "Huh." He snakes his arm back around Micah as well, squeezing his husband lightly as he follows along at his side. "Though /one/'a these days m'gonna call his bluff on all this askin'." "Y'know, I never can tell if he's bein' serious or just teasin'?" Micah arches one brow at Jax's admission, grin going lopsided. "Can't say I would, either. /Should/ call 'im on it just t'see what happens one of these days." "I can't really tell never either. I don't know if he's interested or jus' a incorrigible flirt." Jax's head shakes, and he bonks his forehead lightly against Micah's shoulder. "One'a these days."