ArchivedLogs:People

People
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah, Horus	16 February 2014 Discussions on the rooftop. (WARNING: Unusual philosophical content warning...discussion of things like cannibalism that may be uncomfortable to some readers.)
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. The concrete wall that rings the roof has been decorated, painted in vivid bright shades by some artistic hand to add colourful cheer to the rooftop. The mural shifts in terrain One wall sports a beach, flecked with grass and seashells and driftwood and shore birds. Beach transitions into meadow, colourful with wildflowers and butterflies and dragonflies; meadow shifts into snow-capped mountains, subsides into piedmont and sprouts into a verdant forest on the fourth, alive with animals. It's cold, up here on the roof; not snowing anymore but still icy beneath the layers of snow that have accumulated, half-thawed and refrozen to leave footing unfortunately treacherous. Shane right now is a bulkier figure for it than he usually makes, bundled up in layers against the cold, clad dark in his outermost wool coat and scarf and mittens, slacks a little rumpled over the several warmer layers beneath and warm hiking boots rather than any more formal footwear. He's removed one of his mittens so that he can flick at a cigarette lighter, chk-chk-chk, a task that is being currently complicated by the pecking interference of Horus's beak tap-tap-tapping against the cheap plastic case. Tap/tap/ tap/tap/ tap/tap/. Horus's feathers are ruffled up against the cold, Shane's tophat with its pinstriped band perched on his head, though it keeps slipping down over his eyes. He moves, soon, from pecking at the lighter to deftly nabbing the unlit cigarette from Shane's lips. "Man fuck you." Shane bares his teeth at Horus as he finally gets the flame lit, only to be faced with sudden lack of cigarette. "You know those things'll kill you right." Micah is well bundled-up, regardless of how briefly he may or may not be out on the roof. He's covered head to toe in Jayne hat, coils upon coils of Fourth Doctor scarf, puffy coat, layered gloves, lined jeans, and boots. His forearms are slipped into neon orange crutches with their snow/ice attachments on. Once he has gotten himself clear of the door, his eyes dart around in search of someone. "Horus! They said y'might be up here. With bonus Shane!" His grin is only partly visible, chuckle rather muffled from behind the scarf. "I wanted t'talk t'you on options for gettin' you a new tablet set up." Horus grows fluttery with excitement when the door opens, flitting back over to stick the cigarette back into Shane's mouth -- backwards -- and then dart forward to butt his feathery head lightly against the side of Micah's. He wings off, briefly disappearing over the side of the roof before reappearing to perch on its edge, talons gripping the roof wall as he bobs happily in place. He cringes at the mention of the tablet, though, croaking something scratchy and apologetic and backing up-up-up until he walks his way backwards off the edge of the roof to disappear over it, still making soft apology-sounds as his scratchy nails skitter down against the icy bricks, wings stretching out to flutter-flap quickly as he starts to slide down against the wall. Shane spits the cigarette out into his hand, turning it around to put it into his mouth properly. "Uh." He meanders over closer to Micah, absently offering an arm out to his father, though his eyes are turned to watch Horus with a bemused frown. "There were zombies, man, I don't think anyone's pissed at you." "Good t'see you, too." Micah returns the gentle headbonk in greeting. "What're you doin'?" He watches Horus's antics curiously. "Hon, get back up here. Things're slippery an' you're still recoverin' from your ordeal. Were y'just tryin' t'say the old one got dropped? It's okay. I know y'didn't /mean/ t'break it. S'just why we need t'get you a new one." Slowly, he makes his way over to where the others were standing, through a combination of crutch use and Shane's hand on his arm. "Ain't nobody upset, s'just a matter of how we're gonna go about it. Since I'm craftin' the attachments m'self for the most part, they aren't /too/ expensive. But the tablets themselves /are/. Usually I'd say we could try t'spring for it, but we just put a lot into gettin' psychic pictures drawn for you'n Anole'n Matt, so... We can either try takin' up a collection, or the Clinic's got a fund they use for medical equipment for their patients as don't have insurance. Y'gotta be a patient there an' have one of the docs sign off on the equipment recommendation first, though." His head tilts slightly, looking at Horus. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you t'go anyhow. After all y'went through, someone havin' an eye on your physical health's a good plan." "I think he's just freaking the fuck out because he thinks you're going to be pissed that he broke it. Though I'm not," Shane admits, peeking over the edge of the wall where Horus has -- sort of half-slide down towards the fire escape, "/entirely/ sure." Horus has turned himself into a puddle of feathers on the icy fire escape a floor below, by now, a little bit too exhausted to have properly caught himself in time and flown back /up/; it takes him a bit to recover, shaking his rumpled feathers out and clambering back up to the fire escape railing before he flies back up to the roof. He brushes a wing against a patch of snow, reaching out a talon to scratch into the ice: SORRY. And then returns to puddling, dropping his head down to tuck under a wing. He peeks back out at the mention of Clinic, though, ruffling his feathers up further. And /huffing/. He skitters a liiittle bit farther away along the wall and immediately makes his head disappear beneath a wing again. Micah nods at Shane's explanation. “No, Horus, it's okay. Nobody's upset with you. Sure y'didn't want it t'get broken or t'be stuck at that...sanctuary, either. Ain't your fault...it's okay.” He crouches down a little, moving to pet at Horus's head with a gloved hand when he writes in the snow. “No need t'apologise, honey. We'll work it out. An' the Clinic's not bad. /I/ work there. An' Iolaus. An' they have folks as understand, for example, bird anatomy an' physiology, work together with the docs t'make sure you're getting' what y'need. I'd go with you. I mean, we even got /Hive/ t'go the other day, so it can't be that bad, right? An' y'get a new tablet in the end.” Horus peeks out from beneath his wing again, and scoots slowly, reluctantly, back in closer to Micah. He brushes his previous SORRY clean as he considers this. One talon taps against the ice before, slowly, he scratches into the snow: horus 3.0? On Micah's other side Shane is finally lighting his cigarette. He grins, bright and broad. "Shit, yeah. New and improved. Part of the cyborg army all over again." Micah's broad smile at Horus's message is clear, even from behind his massive scarf. “Absolutely. May I make an appointment for you? We'll see just how fast we can get this done an' /you/ back t'talkin', cyborg buddy.” He reaches out to pet at Horus's head again. Now that /that/ has been dealt with... “How're y'doin', Shane? Feel like I ain't hardly seen y'around or talked t'you lately.” Horus just chirrups something quiet with a little bob of his head, scooting in closer again. He leans in towards Micah, butting his head up against Micah's hand with a small nuzzle, tiny warbling noises sounding quietly from him as he presses up against the man's gloved hand. Shane leans back against the wall, turning his head to blow smoke out over the edge of the roof. "S'-- probably cuz I haven't been around or talked to you lately." He shivers slightly, slipping his cigarette back between his lips. "Dunno. Been. You know. School. Guess nobody's dying so that's always a plus. Change from the usual. Feel like I'm always just waiting to hear who's going to be dying next." The smile doesn't fade entirely, though Micah's brows do dip in concern at Shane. His hand pets idly at Horus's head. “I'll do that tomorrow, then.” His head tilts slightly as he listens to Shane speak. “Y'been able t'catch up again in school? Mel told me y'quit t'spend more time studyin'.” He grabs at his lower lip with his teeth, gently. “S'just that I'm not used t'not seein' you 'round or talkin' t'you. Is all. I worry.” "Tch. Can you really imagine me spending more time studying I don't think I've been to class all fucking week dude." Shane slumps back further against the wall. "OK that's not true I went to like. Three. Classes. But man now there's /really/ no point I'm not even going to be able to sign up for /online/ college they'll know I'm a mutant without even seeing me. Feel like everyone's been kind of busy, though." He shrugs a shoulder, pulling harder at his cigarette, head tipping back up towards the sky. Horus's warbling takes on a sadder note. He butts up against Micah's hand again, but his head turns over to look at Shane. Shane just frowns. "{Sorry}, man. Not a telepath." "It wouldn't've been my own guess for why y'left a job. But it's what she said y'told her," Micah clarifies. His hand taps lightly at Horus's back, directing him to move closer to Shane. He has to reclaim the hand for use of his crutches to do the same. "Shane, there's places that'll hire an' schools that'll take folks even if they know. An' they still haven't said who's gonna have access t'that registry. It's /still/ in your best interest t'get your diploma. Y'might not have a GPA y'wanna advertise later, but the diploma itself is pretty helpful." He shakes his head. "You're /bright/, Shane. An' you've caught up in classes after bein' away /longer/'n this. It's just a matter of...whether or not y'wanna try." Horus edges closer, nudging gently against Shane's shoulder with this direction. His head bumps up against the side of Shane's neck, nuzzling up against the other teenager's scarf. One wing stretches out, draping loosely against Shane's shoulders. "It wasn't /exactly/ what I told her. I didn't /lie/." There's an edge of a growl in Shane's words, defensive and unhappy. "I just couldn't exactly tell her the truth either. This whole situation is shitty. This whole fucking world is still shitty.” He stretches an arm out away from the others to tap at his cigarette, returning it to his mouth before he nestles in against Horus's feathers. "Doesn't feel like a lot of point in bothering. I'm not /B/. Just kind of wanted to fucking be done with it but now I'm glad for it. It's not /here/." Micah gives Horus a small, grateful nod. "I didn't say you had, Shane. I know that you don't. It's just...what she took away from it. I realise it was second-hand news. Surprised me was all." With a sigh, he leans against the wall next to Shane. "Shane, I didn't say y'couldn't talk t'Mel. Or that you couldn't talk t'her about her pregnancy or her baby. Just that...the one thing you said about killin' the kid. Shouldn't be repeated because it was hurtful an' past the point of bein' a useful argument. I apologise if y'thought I was tellin' you not t'talk at all or...somethin' like that. I didn't ever mean t'tell you that you couldn't /talk/." He shakes his head again. "I spoke t'Mel an' she said that she wants you t'speak t'her freely." There is a long pause after the last comment. "You don't want t'be here anymore?" Shane is quiet, at that, shrinking down smaller and retreating under the shelter of Horus's wing. "-- Oh." He pulls deeply at his cigarette and crushes it out against his unmittened palm, flicking the half-finished stick out over the edge of the roof. He blinks a few times, brows rumpling together. He tips his head, nuzzling back against Horus as he leans into the other boy. "Because you said -- I mean, I thought --" Then quiet, again. "I haven't. Wanted to be here, no." "Honey, no... I just didn't want you t'say that one thing t'her. 'Specially not the way...y'were sayin' it when y'were upset. There are things y'can say t'people that they just don't never get to /unhear/, y'know?" Micah reaches out a hand to rest on Shane's shoulder, lingering only if the boy doesn't pull away. "I love you, honey. I would never tell you y'couldn't /speak/. Or have /opinions/. I just didn't want y'sayin' that one thing the way you were sayin' it, t'her specifically. It's hard...t'be clear, I guess. When people are upset an' run out of the room. After that I was just tryin' t'give you some space." He slumps back a little. "Y'didn't wanna be here because of me?" "I'm still upset." Shane doesn't exactly pull away, but he does bristle, muscles tensing as he nestles himself further into the warm safety of Horus's feathers. Horus just plunks his head further on top of Shane's. The tophat falls down over Horus's eyes, resting on the long bridge of his beak. "I don't know. I don't want to be here because of all it. I can't be excited about her, I can't even be /okay/ with it. It's /sick/. I can't /not/ be sickened by it. So I'm going to stay at school where it doesn't /matter/ if I think it's sick because I don't have to think about it. Because in a couple months we're going to be living right next /door/ and that'll be worse." He tugs his other mitten on, shrugging. "/And/ because of you. I guess. Because of not speaking. Or having opinions. Or -- I don't know. Feeling like it was just irrelevant bullshit what my opinions -- ngh." He dips his head, lifting a hand to push the hat back from Horus's eyes. "Sorry, dude. This is. So not your drama." "I know. It's okay t'be upset. You're entitled t'/be/ upset an' t'/tell/ people you're upset." Micah's hand strokes once against Shane's shoulder, then pulls away entirely. "Y'don't have t'be excited or happy for her if that's not what y'feel. I just...didn't want you t'tell her that she should kill a baby that was too far along for...just abortion as an option. An' y'can be angry at her for waitin' that long. No one is sayin' y'can't. It's just that tellin' her t' 'get rid of' that kid now is like tellin' somebody t' 'get rid of' a six month old. It's past the point of bein' an option. An' would be the same for her emotionally, t'hear that. Does that make any sense?" He sighs again, the breath visible and puffy in the cold. "But she said she wants you t'speak your mind. So y'don't have t'not...say that. Just 'cause I asked you to. Anymore." Micah's arm twitches, looking like it might well reach for Shane again, but it doesn't. "I would /never/ want t'do anythin' t'drive you from your home, Shane. This is the only home you've ever... I'd sooner leave /myself/ then do anythin' t'make this not your home. Okay? This is your home." His next words catch in his throat, changing midway. "Oh...Horus, I apologise. I shouldn't be... Havin' this conversation right over your head like this. I can go. Or if y'wanted to. I'd understand." He signs 'sorry' a little clumsily with a glove-puffy hand. "-- I'm not really sure six month olds are people yet either," Shane admits, more thoughtful than argumentative with a small pensive frown, "I mean it's not like they have much of any cognitive function yet, it's just that there's just laws about eating people and things. Pigs are /way/ smarter. Obie's -- well, okay, /Obie's/ dumber than a rock but lots of dogs are smarter than infants for sure. Taylor's parrot's smarter than lots of toddlers even. It's all kind of just arbitrary because people don't like to think about the fact that their kids are dumber than the meat they eat." Horus gives his head a small shake, chirruping noncommittally. The hat slides down off his head; he catches it in his beak, stretching his head upward to perch Shane's tophat over Micah's Jayne hat. His head tips to the side, next warble questioning as his beak pokes out in the direction of Micah's stomach. "Uh -- Shane considers this for a second. "Oh, uh. Mel. Got herself pregnant like a fucking moron. And then is keeping it also like a fucking moron. We kind of had a fight over it because who the fuck would bring a kid into this sickass world where they torture us and -- lock us in cages. Jim's kid. She's calling the thing an entling like people should find it /endearing/ that the poor fucker's probably going to come out half-tree and get beaten up and tortured its whole life." He fidgets uncomfortably, reaching up to straighten the hat, pushing it down more securely onto Micah's head before he nestles back against Horus once more. "Whatever though I mean we're leaving this place soon anyway right." "Honey...y'can't decide which people are people based on their level of /intelligence/. That's just not. Not okay at all. I know a lot of really wonderful people who might not ever get t'be smarter than a toddler an' they're still /people/, honey. It's just...real dangerous. T'start sayin' who gets t'be a person an' who doesn't. You've seen what happens when folks do that." Micah's expression looks a bit /pained/, lightening a little when Horus places the hat on his head. "Ohgosh. Apologies again, Horus. I start t'forget. Not everybody's up on all the gossip." His cheeks redden a little. "I think she's givin' the baby pet names t'bond with it, hon. I don't think...this definitely wasn't planned, but I also get the idea that she didn't really want kids. Might be wrong about that, but it's what I gathered. It's just...this kid is /gonna/ be here. It's gonna happen. When it gets here, it deserves t'be loved. That's all she's tryin' t'do at this point. I think she knows that she's made mistakes. But she's tryin' t'do what she /can/ now that it's this far along. An' it's t'give that baby as much love an' happiness as she can. Does that make any sense?" Micah winces at Shane's last statement, about just leaving. "I didn't mean this /buildin'/, Shane. Home's more'n a physical place. It's...havin' your people an' your place t'b'long. An'...as much as possible, your safe space. Whether it's here or at the Commons or...wherever. I never want any part in keepin' you from /home/." His voice shakes a little and he forces a small smile over it. "Horus, y'gotta get Hive t'show you his drawin's. For the place we're all buildin' t'gether. It's gonna be kinda amazin'. An' he'll need all kindsa input from you for your space." "So how do you decide who's a person? Someone who's totally braindead, are they still a person just because they've got a body with human-genes in them? Is a fetus a person /before/ they have brain activity just because /they/ have human genes in them? Because there's a line somewhere and you're being pretty fucking arbitrary." Shane wriggles out from beneath Horus's wing so that he can lean down against the wall, turning around to scowl down at the city. "I mean, I've got plenty of genes in common with a mako shark and you have plenty of genes in common with a monkey so if we're just using genetics /that's/ totally fucking stupid too. So what's this magical fucking /person/ metric you're going to use. Pa'd probably say a /soul/ but I don't know who measures /those/." Horus folds his wings back in against his sides, ruffling his feathers back up again for warmth. The soft noises he makes at the talk of baby are considerably more twittery-excited than Shane's angry ones, though they fade into pensive-unhappy as Shane talks. He bobs his head downward, quieting through the talk of personhood. He stretches out a talon, scritching his contribution into an empty patch of snow: <3 "Any human--an' you know when /I/ say human I include you guys, too--once they're developed enough t'live outside the womb is a person. 'Til such time as a fetus can live on its own, it's a part of its mother. After that, it's a person. T'me anyhow. Other people'll say dif'rent. But that's just what I go with." Micah shrugs, shoulders rising and falling in a heap of colourful scarf. "It's hard t'come up with firm answers, but pretty dangerous, I feel, t'tell somebody they're not a person 'til they can score a certain number on an IQ test. I'd rather err on the side of callin' somebody a person an' treatin' 'em like one. If there's error t'be had." He nods down at Horus's little heart. "An' I'd rather extend love...too far, too quickly, too much than not enough." Shane shakes his head, leaning more heavily against the wall with his elbows propped against it, chin dropping into one hand. "On its /own/? Heh. Humans can't live on their own a /long/-ass time. Animals are way better at that than we are. We're just pretty arrogant motherfuckers who like to pretend we're special. But I pretty much don't think of anything as a person till it's capable of some kind of self-awareness or independent thought." He scrunches one eye shut, looking down at the city below. "I don't know though. B and I are probably, uh. Not really. Very. Good people. I mean, /conceptually/ I don't really logically know why eating a person is much different than eating a deer. In practice I probably wouldn't eat people in most situations because laws and the people I'm likely to /encounter/ have all kinds of emotional ties that'd make my life hella complicated but uh. Like in a vacuum on a desert island if someone just handed me their baby they didn't want anymore why wouldn't I eat a human I eat meat all the time. I'd eat Mel's baby for her if she wanted to get rid of the thing -- thaaat's probably the kind of thing I'm not supposed to say again. Just ethically it's -- all. I don't know. I feel like Pa and me and Bastian are pretty much aligned ninety-nine percent of the way on this question and then it's the end part we kind of split drastically on." He wrinkles his nose as he looks down at Horus's heart. "Maybe because we'd die if we went his path. 'cuz it's like fish humans whatever we do treat /all/ creatures with basically the /same/ respect it's just that respect uh ends with us eating them so it's not a whole. Lot." Horus just tips his head inward, bonking it up against Shane's shoulder with a small warble. Then against Shane's chest. His beak taps at the little heart again. With a small tweak at the end of Micah's ridiculously long scarf, he spreads his wings to take off of the roof. Not overly far, just fluttering his way down the side of the building so that he can land on the third-floor fire escape, tapping at his apartment window so that he can head inside to the warmth. "Y'know I didn't mean completely livin' by itself in the wilderness. Just not...physically dependent on bein' /inside/ another person." Micah pales a little as Shane's explanation grows. "Ohgosh, please. Please don't offer t'Mel t'eat her baby. That's not... I'm not sayin' y'/can't/ but /please/ don't." He shivers a little, as if the cold is suddenly getting to him. "You're allowed t'have philosophical differences it's just...that particular one isn't gonna keep y'goin' within most human societies too well." Reaching out, he gives Horus's head one last little pet before withdrawing his arm to get out of the way of /flight/. "Love you, too, Horus. Go be warm." "I mean she didn't want the thing anyway," Shane says a little grumpily, leaning over the wall to watch as Horus flies off, rocking back down to his feet only once he's made sure the other teenager gets safely indoors. "And B and I were hunting /our/ own food when /we/ were --" He clenches his teeth. "-- anyway most humans are stupid and helpless compared to most /other/ animal species. I don't get how we get this special /personhood/ marker I'm supposed to respect so much more when we go around slaughtering other animals by the millions. I mean I'm not saying we should stop. I'm just saying it's hypocritical to get all uppity about turning around and eating people too. Or killing infants if you don't want them. Or any of that. They're not people any /more/. Or less. And sometimes the world doesn't need more of them. And sometimes you need to eat. And sometimes there's lots of perfectly valid reasons for killing things and the difference between murder and hunting-for-food and euthanasia is just /arbitrary/." "Didn't, Shane. /Didn't/. She's been growin' an attachment t'that child. It's movin' from bein' a part of her t'bein' a person she loves. Both of those things are...hard enough t'make decisions about. An' it just...if nothin' else, it's a strong emotional recoil from the mere thought of it. Emotional things're that much harder for her right now 'cause she's full of pregnancy hormones, too. So just...try t'be a little more considerate an' careful when y'talk t'her? Y'can say what you're thinkin' just...preferably a little bit delicately. That's all I been sayin' really." Micah reaches over, gloved hand rubbing gently at Shane's back. "Maybe it's because it's impossible t'have these discussions from a truly...completely just logical place? That there's emotions an' feelin's an'...for some people, even religion all tied up in it. It doesn't always boil down to a simple logical argument. Maybe that's why it feels arbitrary t'you." "It mostly actually just feels like most of you are giant fucking hypocrites," Shane admits. "/Pa/ I understand. Ryan. Horus. They're consistent about shit. You don't get to pretend like you give a fuck about life and then just slaughter craptons of people because meat tastes good. /Humans/ aren't special. You murder pigs and cows and chickens like it's no big thing all the time. Everyone does. And they're not worth anything /less/ than humans. At least not for any valid reason anyone's ever been able to tell me. I just can't really respect that. So Pa and them -- I get. The rest of everyone --" He shakes his head, disgusted. "At least B and I don't pretend. We /have/ to kill to live. But I don't pretend that humans are different from the rest of everyone somehow because -- what. Magic?" "It's not 'no big thing'. A lotta people treat it like it ain't, but I don't agree with 'em. The animals are important an' it's important t'treat 'em well. T'respect what it is that they're givin' when y'kill 'em for food. An' not t'be wasteful or frivolous with it. The way a lotta folks treat animals an' animal products is shameful at best. 'Specially with the age of factory farmin'." Micah leans back against the wall again as the conversation gets longer. "S'why I try t'be picky about where meat comes from, an' eggs'n dairy an' things. An' if I ever buy 'em I try t'get things from small local farms where they treat the animals better'n all. But...like I said, it ain't all strictly logical. Animals...aren't people. That's really the big difference. An' maybe that's an emotional argument or a spiritual argument somewhere down the line. They're life, an' should be respected as such. But killin' people for food an' killin' animals for food s'different." Shane shakes his head, frowning. "/Why/ is it different. How is it different? Because they look different than us? Talk different than us? Act different? Have different genes? There's not a single thing you could say about them that people couldn't say about some of /us/. You'd probably think different if you could talk to them. Who's the arbiter of who gets to be a /person/. If I asked Pa, he'd tell me Obie's one. Or the chickens enslaved to make your illicit brunch omelettes. So why is he wrong and you're right. If I asked the people who locked /me/ up for years they'd probably say I'm /not/ and half this country'd agree." "I did say people would disagree on these things, didn't I? Your Pa's not wrong. Never meant t'imply that he was, if that's what you're takin' away. People are allowed t'have dif'rent ideas about how things work. Don't always have to agree completely." Micah's hand moves in a small, soothing circle on Shane's back. "There ain't always clear answers t'things. There ain't always /single/ answers t'things...or even non-contradictory answers t'things. Y'gotta come up with some of the answers for yourself. They ain't just handed down from on high." Micah chuckles a little at this, taking the top hat from on top of his own hat and placing it back on Shane's head instead. "Okay, some people wouldn't even agree t'that. There's some folks as would point to an old book an' say, 'God gave dominion over the plants an' animals t'man.' an' that's all the dif'rence they need. You'll have t'come up with your own answer on this one, honey. 'Cause ain't neither me nor your Pa completely right or completely wrong t'be tellin' y'what t'do. In the meantime, s'a good idea t'do what's /legal/. An' t'have a care about what other people's theories an' philosophies an' feelin's are when y'interact with 'em." "The law's all pretty fucking stupid though." Shane huffs heavily, raising his hands to resituate his hat neatly on his head. "This is all just making me hungry," he complains. "Now I want a steak." His nose wrinkles up, and he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. "And a huge mug of hot chocolate, I don't have a Horus-blanket anymore." "Can't say /never/ breakin' the law's the right approach, either. But it's a good default 'til you've really thought a thing through. Also, helps t'not get arrested as much." Able to /see/ Shane a little more clearly, Micah gives the hat another little tip to adjust it a touch straighter. "Hot chocolate we can arrange downstairs. Steak's another matter altogether." He lets his hand drift down to Shane's back to guide him toward the door, but has to leave off on this to move himself, crutches necessary on the icy-snowy rooftop. "World's a complicated place an' everythin's ambiguous to a certain extent. Apologies for the state of existence." This last is said more with a chuckle and a lopsided grin than with any real air of apology as Micah makes his way toward the door. "Yeah I think our fridge in our room's empty we've barely been home." Shane looks kind of sad about this lack-of-steak. "Kinda starving though. He leans in to take a sharp nip at the many bulky layers of Micah's elbow before scampering off to hold the door open for Micah and head inside to warmth and hot chocolate. Even if no steak.