ArchivedLogs:Suit Up

Suit Up
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Sean, Isak	16 May 2014 Shopping for art show suits.
Location <NYC> 609 {Isak} - One Sixty-Seven - Upper West Side
Isak's apartment is wide open and spacious. The company owns it - he just gets to live here. The apartment is meant for entertaining, with a permanent bar near the window. The real star of the apartment is the sweeping floor to ceiling windows with the twinkling lights of the city beyond. The living room is sunken and holds one large crescent shaped sectional - perfect for entertaining. In fact, the whole room looks more like a posh club than someone's home. Everything is done up in shades of deep blue, rich red, polished black and pearl white - all colours found in Blomgren's showrooms. Knock knock knock! That is a Jax, rapping briskly on Isak's apartment door a short while after being buzzed into the building. He is a little bouncy, a little restless. There are shiny /new/ holes in his face, new earrings and nose rings glinting and a small bandage wrapped against his arm just inside the elbow marks new ink as well. His clothing is colourful, if -- /distinctly/ not as swanky as his surroundings here in this building. Faded jeans that have been liberally paint-splattered (there is at the moment quite a lot of lime green), a black t-shirt with a pink heart sitting over a rain of broken pink and gold arrows that reads 'COMPASSION IS INVINCIBLE' around the artwork. Black nails that glitter with rainbow flecks over top. Enormous mirrored sunglasses cover his eyes, despite being indoors. His fingers drum against the newly-eBay'd FreakAngels messenger bag hanging at his hip. "I always feel like there's some bouncer gonna kick me out when I come through here," he confides quietly to Micah, glancing down the hall and then back to the door. Micah is at Jax's side, looking, if anything, less...colourful, fashionable, swanky, you name it. He's dressed simply in a thrift store blue T-shirt and matching faded-frayed jeans with equally second-hand sneakers on his feet. His auburn hair is tousled and longish, reaching mop-like levels of not really being paid much mind. An army green messenger bag hangs crosswise over his torso. “You'n me both, hon,” he reassures (or not) with a hint of lopsided grin. Despite his threat of pajamas and bunny slippers, Sean has in fact dressed up more appropriate for a fashion related visit. He looks rather like someone decided to toss purchases from London fashion week into his closet without directions more than to put them on in some relative fashion. Knowing however that he would be standing beside a living color pallet, his red pants with dark red stripes and his tight purple shirt don't nearly feel so bad. Giving Jax a little finger wave he strolls out of his door, checking the screen of his phone as he joins the other gentlemen at Isak's door. "Hello hello, glad I timed it right." He is freshly showered by the fresh scent of body wash on him, though his hair has gel in it to spike it slightly. "And don't worry about bouncers too much, they would have stopped you before you got on the elevator if it was a problem," he says with a beaming smile. It's not Isak who opens the door, but a stylish young black woman with a pompadour, dramatic eyeliner and coral lips. She's wearing capris suit pants and a jacket, with a low cut blouse and a silver tie necklace. She's also wearing black platform stilettos and a silver bracelet on her left wrist. If she's shocked at all by the wardrobe of the men she greets, she hides it well. "Gentlemen. Welcome. Please come in." "That'll be all, Eri. You can go back to headquarters before anyone misses you." Isak walks up to her and kisses her on the cheek. "I owe you one." He's wearing a perfectly tailored canary yellow suit with a pink kerchief in the pocket, a white v-neck shirt beneath, and boat shoes. The arms of his jacket are rolled up and he isn't wearing socks. It's a bold look, but somehow he manages to pull it off effortlessly. "Gentlemen. Come in, please. Can Eri get you a drink before she goes?" There are three racks of suits in various bold colours set up in the living room, along with three full-length mirrors and a round podium. "Hihi!" Jax's greeting to Sean is chipper; he reaches up an arm to curl around the other man, leaning in to peck Sean lightly on the cheek together with this small hug. "Oh gosh you smell yummy -- oh. I shouldn't say that right? I say things a lot. Sean are you sure this is a good - -- I mean if this guy lives /here/ he's probably /also/ totally swank an' we ain't exactly -- Oh!" He quiets back when the door opens, turning the same sunny-bright smile to Eri and Isak. "/Hi/. Um -- hi. Sir. Miss." He bounces in through the door though once he's inside he doesn't yet stray far from the entrance, teeth sinking down against his pierced lip. "No, I think I'm -- okay, thank you. Should I have dressed up t'come here, I didn't. Dress up." "Timed it /perfectly/, seems like," Micah answers Sean with a small wave. "We sneaked in. Maybe nobody noticed." He fidgets with the strap of his messenger bag, since it's readily available for the fidgeting. "Evenin', Miss." The greeting comes with a nod as Eri opens the door. "Evenin'," is repeated to Isak as Micah glances around in an out-of-place manner. "No need for drinks or nothin' for me. Wouldn't wanna hold you up, besides. Busy folks with places t'be an all." Another smile and nod are directed at the departing woman. "Are y'/s'posed/ t'get dressed up t'get measured? Wouldn't fancy clothes just be in the way? They usually gotta just. Tape measures. Right?" Micah is an expert at this fashion thing, clearly. Turning to the opening door, "Nice to meet you Eri," Sean says inclining his head to her as Isak provides a name. Waving off the offer of a drink though he shakes his head. "No no, I had like two shots of espresso before I came over. Had just pulled an all-nighter finishing up a clay sculpt." Waving to Isak he offers a grin. "I have brought two scandalous gentlemen to your door. You may now have your way with them. Or put them into pretty clothing," he taps his finger against his lips as if trying to decide which they had been brought for. "My way is to put them into fancy clothing. It's what I do. Hello," He steps up to Jax and Micah and offers his hand to Jax first. "Isak Blomgren. It's a pleasure to meet such a controversial person. There's not nearly enough of that in my life." He pauses though, and nods at Micah. "Good to see you again. We seem to meet in wildly different contexts each time." And who would have guessed that someone who pals around with Kay would live in a place like this? "Glad to see that you are in one piece." Eri doesn't linger. She picks up a few empty garment bags, smiles at the gathered, and exits quietly. Jax's cheeks tinge faintly pink at Sean's reply. "Not for eatin'? There go my plans for the rest of the evenin'." He crinkles his nose, dipping his head a little sheepishly at the rest of the answer, too. "Oh -- gosh. Havin' your way -- well. Fancy clothes do seem like a good kinda way. An' I don't know," he admits to Micah with a shake of his head, "all the other times I done this t'was kinda more. Informal jus' at /home/ I never really -- um." He flutters his fingers at Isak, and the racks of suits. His blush deepens sharply as he steps in to offer his hand to Isak for a firm shake -- kind of calloused-rough, peppered with a few burn scars, its smallest finger missing. "Oh -- I --" The crimson is spreading up into his ears, his head shaking slightly. "Con -- troversial?" His tone is a little awkward-embarrassed, head dipping for a brief moment. "I, ah -- I didn't know that was a -- sellin' point." Micah blushes a faint shell-pink at the 'scandalous' description, quickly finding a deeper shade of red at being...foisted off for having of ways with, apparently. "Um, yes. Good t'see you, too. An', well, definitions of 'one piece' may agree more or less on that." His teeth find his lower lip and worry at it briefly. "Honestly, I've only ever rented things before. An' borrowed Matt's suit for your last thing, Jax. So. Hi, we're kinda hopeless." Micah shrugs, running his hand up the back of his head to muss his hair even further. "No no, the rest of your plans for the night involve you getting dressed fancily. I have seen this to be true," Sean puts his hand to his head sounding like a spacey medium for a minute before giggling. "And Everything can be a selling point to the right buyer. I mean, people ride roller coasters for a thrill after all. And that's just the perception of danger." Nodding a bit to himself as if he were incredibly wise, he chuckles and strides over to look over the suits on the rack hrming to himself. "I'll have to come back another night or just later on to try on everything myself. I can't stay tooooo long sadly. The sculpt is just about to the safe point for the next step but I wanted to make sure I was here for the beginning." He smiles at that looking over the others. "It is for me," says Isak. He claps Jax on the shoulder and smiles brightly. "Controversy means I can push my family's company out of their comfort zone and make you look good in one fell swoop." He steps back and grins at Micah and Jax. "You sure I can't offer either of you a drink? I promise I won't bite, and neither will my suits." He glances sidelong to Sean. "You're welcome to. I do enjoy dressing people. I should really be playing higher-up client services, but I enjoy the personal touch. So." He claps his hands together. "Who wants to go first?" "I didn't realize y'two knowed each other." Jax turns his head briefly to look between Isak and Micah. He scrubs at the back of his neck again, biting down on his lip once more and rocking back a half-step to stand closer to his husband. "Oh --" His teeth drag against his lip again, one arm curling across his chest to squeeze in against the opposite bicep. "I -- um. /Do/ tend to. Push people out of their, um. Comfort zones a lot. M'show ain't even been in the papers much yet an' I'm already getting a few threats of..." He trails off, looking away towards the windows. "I don't know," he adds apologetically, "if I'm really the right kinda -- maybe this wasn't a good -- I kinda fit the whole starvin'-artist sorta stereotype we don't exactly got a lotta --" He stops, pulling in a deep breath and looking back to Sean with a small smile. "I bet they'd nearabout /all/ look fantastic on /you/, sugar. I don't want t'keep you from your artin' though." "Yes...fancy. Totally. Gonna do that thing. Which you could totally do first but then maybe that'd make y'miss your...sculpture thing." Micah's fingers rake through his hair the /other/ direction, guaranteeing it's going to stick up a bit. "Bitin' I'm used to. Fancy less so," he finally admits with a sheepish grin, his cheeks holding on to their ruddiness. He nods at Jax's comment. "Oh, yeah, we met over at the safehouse. An' with Kay one time. I dunno, honey. It's your night. We'll do whatever y'want." Grinning at the sidelong glance, Sean inclines his head. "Yes I know, I'm not nearly so controversial. I'll have Angela schedule an appointment. Then it can be properly snooty that my people have called your people." Watching between the others, he settles against the wall to see what they decide on. The sound of a phone buzzing against the wall makes him twitch as he shifts his butt away and checks his phone. "And there goes the timer. You guys have fun," and he grins at the compliment. "Of Course I would look great in all of them. Which is why you guys need to Also look great in them. Break perceptions, show that you aren't what people expect. And give Aunties heart attacks in the process." The last part is said more to Isak than the other two it seems, and the grin he has across his lips indicates the joke. Offering a wave to the lot of them, he slides out the door to go back down the hall. "My family needs to be brought into the 21st century," says Isak. "They need to take some risks. We'll always have /customers/, as we dress conservative businessmen and the odd Hollywood actor on the red carpet. But we'll remain safe and predictable. We won't be Hugo Boss or Calvin Klein by playing it safe." He steps over to the rack and fingers through the suits. He looks down, then up at his visitors. "On a personal note, I feel like Blomgren needs to make a stand. We need to embrace the growing market of mutant and mutant supporters, not to mention the LGBTQ community. It's the only way we'll be relevant." He pauses a moment and purses his lips. "Unfortunately, I am something of a black sheep of the Blomgren family. I don't have any power to sway advertising or set policy. But what I /can/ do is dress people who are prime examples of our changed world." He motions with one hand. "And if anyone in the family gets upset, well...they cannot say one thing against it because it would be a PR nightmare to declare certain people do not belong in our clothes. But don't think of this as a political statement. Let me worry about that. You two just worry about looking amazing." As Sean's timer buzzes, he looks towards him and nods once. "I'll see you then. I've already got a few suits in mind." "Take care, honey-honey." Jax's smile brightens, flashing towards Sean, but it fades again once the other artist leaves. His fingers tighten against his arm, squeezing in hard as he draws a slow breath, nails pressing in against his skin. "I mean, I'm definitely queer an' definitely a freak but I don't know as I'm a prime example of --" His fingers stay pressed in against his arm, his other hand lifting to rub fingertips against the side of his neck. "Apologies, I --" He glances back towards the suits, then towards Isak with a small smile. "-- Kay? The safehouse? Oh. Then do you know --" He shakes his head quickly, cheeks still deep red. "Right, apologies. Lookin' amazin', that's what we're s'posed to -- I don't know what we're s'posed t'be doin' here," he admits a touch awkwardly. "I jus', um, tend t'like bright colours. An' shiny things. An' glitter. My tastes," he says with a wave of hand towards his shaved head and very pierced face, "ain't exactly what you'd call refined." Micah chuckles at Sean's bright assertion of looking great in all things, waving as the other man exits. "Have a good night, hon. An' thanks." He lets his hands fall to his sides, finally leaving off his fidgeting and fussing. "Yeah, dunno...how much political statement we're up for just this moment. Think we're just tryin' t'get Jax through this show without too many people threatenin' violence at the mere thought of it." He steps in closer to his husband, snaking an arm around his waist and squeezing slightly in an attempt to be reassuring. "He's kinda all about light an' sparkle an' /bright/." "You're avante garde. The fashion world appreciates that. And the beauty of our suits is that although they are all classically-cut, they can be made in less-classic material. With the right touches, it can go from conservative to fashion-forward. Believe me, I've had a lot of practice doing just that." Isak motions to his own clothing. "Members of the House of Lords in the UK wear this exact same suit. Well...not exact. None quite have my figure." He sets a hand on the button at the front of his jacket and grins. "I promise, I can make both of you feel as comfortable in these suits as you would in something you picked out for yourself." Jax leans slightly in against Micah, just a little closer to his husband's side. Beneath the older man's arm he is tense, muscles clenched tight. His fingers relax, squeeze in again tighter, digging small half-moons in at his bicep. "I guess I am that," he agrees with Isak with a soft laugh. "An' this show's definitely -- I mean, it /shouldn't/ even be controversial it's jus' portraits. But s'portraits'a mutants in -- well. People freak at all kindsa things. I jus' kinda want --" He tips his head towards Micah in agreement. "T'survive the night. An' hopefully look sorta decent while I'm at it. What, um. What would you – recommend?" "Don't think I've /ever/ picked a suit out for m'self...even rentals. Always had...somebody usually does it for me." Micah's blush picks up some renewed vigour. "But I'm kinda secondary here. S'about this one." His arm gives another little squeeze at Jax's waist. Isak takes a moment to consider Jax. He smiles. It's half-kind, half...intrigued. "Your colour is your armour, is it not? Bright and flashy. An image for people to latch on to so they are less concerned with your personal life and less likely to ask questions about your family." He walks over to the rack and tosses a look over his shoulder. "I can work with that." He fingers his way down the line until he finds a peacock blue suit with a little bit of a shine. "There's two ways we can go with this. Loud suit and understated accessories, or the other way around. If you do both, you look like a circus clown." Jax curls in just a little closer to Micah, opening his mouth for a moment and then closing it again quickly. He gives his head a quick shake, his smile lopsided. "No. It ain't -- that. M'colour is jus' -- /me/. I don't look how I look for --" His teeth wiggle briefly at one of his lip rings. "It ain't for other people, I jus' feel most comfortable bein' bright an'. Cheery." His smile stretches a little wider, and he straightens slightly away from Micah, though his grip where his fingers clench against his arm only tightens. "I guess I always look like a circus clown." There's a quiet laugh that accompanies this, his nose crinkled up and his cheeks deep crimson. "That is a real fantastic colour, though. Peacock-tones is up high on my favourites list. Micah's -- usually a little more respectable-lookin'." "Yeah...I think it's more...just what fits for 'im?" Micah offers half-questioningly, shrugging again. "Y'don't look like no clown, stop that." His hand rubs reassuringly at Jax's back before moving away as his husband steps out of his grip. "I think he means t'say borin'. 'Bout most of m'clothes choices. I kinda usually just...jeans an' T-shirts. Usually with pictures an' things, but mine got burnt up in the fire an' I ain't been able t'replace any of 'em just yet, so." Another shrug. Isak lifts both his hands. "Fair enough, fair enough. I never claimed to be any kind of shrinker of heads." Most of the time his English is impeccable, but every now and then, his syntax reveals that it's not his first language. He reaches for the peacock suit and hangs it on a display hook. "Well, so what we do is..." He sizes Micah up, then searches through the suits. He settles on a modern-cut tuxedo and hooks that up beside the blue one. Then he opens a drawer and searches until he finds two handkerchiefs, one silky black like the tux, one peacock blue. With an expert hand, he folds the kerchiefs into the pockets of each of the suits. "This is a technique that is used in costume design in the movies. When characters have a relation to one another, there are touches in their wardrobe that call out to each other." "/Kinda/ a little like a clown. M'usually just kinda all /over/ loud clothes /an'/ loud accessories." Jax relaxes, a touch, as Isak goes to find a suit for Micah. He pulls in a deep breath; lets it out just as slowly. "You did look /totally/ dashin' in that last tux. I think you'd prob'ly rock this one." He watches Isak fold the kerchiefs with a small quirk of smile. "S'a nice touch. Easy t'tell who belongs t'who. An' the blue kinda really pops against the black. What's the blue suit made out of?" he asks suddenly, head tilting to one side. “Psh. Y'don't give yourself enough credit ever.” Micah quirks his head to one side to regard the suit Isak pulls for him. “I'm gonna admit. It...looks like a black suit t'me. Um. Jax, you get final say on this. I'm gonna feel out of place no matter which one we pick from wherever, an' I'm there for /you/, so. If y'think it's good, then it's good.” "Silk," says Isak. "They would be custom tailored, of course. It's amazing what that does for the look." He glances towards Micah and tilts his head. "You'd prefer something a bit more interesting, then? Do you have a preferred colour?" "Oh, gosh," Jax's blush, it seems, is not really getting a chance to /leave/ tonight. "M'so -- apologies, I, um, m'vegan, I don't. Wear silk or wool or --" His head dips, brows rumpling deeply. "Any -- of the usual things good suits is made of," he admits apologetically. "Micah's -- way easier t'outfit I'm. Kinda jus' trouble." He reaches to curl an arm around Micah's waist. "'pologies. I don't mean to be draggin' you to -- you're gonna look /perfect/ no matter which one we pick from wherever." "Ohno, it's not that the colour is wrong. I just got...no eye for this stuff t'know one thing from another, honest." Micah waves off Isak's concern with a small flutter of his hand. "Hey, don't apologise. You're not draggin' me nothin'. I wanna be there for /you/ an' your /work/. Whatever I'm wearin's just t'make you happy an' not get kicked outta the fancy shindig. 'Kay? So don't fret about it." He leans into Jax's arm, tipping his head up to place a quick-light kiss to the angle of his jaw. "Oh, well, why didn't you say so?" If Isak is fazed by that, he doesn't show it. A proper salesman. He takes the blue suit and replaces it on the rack. "What's acceptable to you? Cotton? Bamboo? Linen? We're not partial to polyester at Blomgren." He says the word like he finds it deeply distasteful. "I'm afraid you won't get that beautiful sheen with non-animal based materials, but bold colours are certainly possible." He thumbs through the rack, discarding the ones made from silk or wool, and pulling the ones made of cotton, bamboo and linen. "The buttons are often made of horn, but that is simple enough to substitute." He looks Micah over again. "Perhaps we should put you," meaning Jax, "in a cream linen suit with a bold shirt, and you a brown one." "When do I ever not fret." Jax scrubs a hand against his cheek, his smile skewing lopsided. "I like bamboo. An' linen. An' -- oh /gosh/ brown." There's abruptly a /dismayed/ tone in his voice, "-- Micah, do you /know/ what graduatin' colours is for people with a fine arts degree? /Brown/. Brown on a /black/ robe s'appallin'. Outta all the gorgeous colours in /all/ the /world/ who decided on puttin' all the artists in /brown/ I don't even know. Ain't hardly fair I been thinkin' on skipping commencement." With this somewhat huffy announcement he turns his gaze back towards the suits. "I think he should stick in black," he adds to Isak, "-- bold like what colour bold?" "Okay, no brown. Apparently brown is bad." Micah's lips twitch as if he /really/ wants to grin or chuckle at this but is keeping it under wraps. "Black is fine," he adds to Isak with a little nod before addressing Jax's remaining complaints. "You are /not/ thinkin' of skippin' commencement. You put a ton of work into that an' /besides/ which, your momma'd kill you if she didn't get t'watch you get your fancy paper. An' I generally prefer you not dead. So you're goin'." The grin finally sneaks its way out, tipping lopsided-playful. "Tell me there ain't a Bedazzler at the whole of that high school for you t'fancy your robes up a bit with an' I won't believe it." Isak barely contains laughter at Jax's tirade against the colour brown. Rather than say anything, he just lifts his eyebrows and takes his hand off the brown suit he was about to pull. "I can do a similar shade to the silk suit without the sheen. An earthy purple would suit. I also think Micah, that you would look fine in a cream linen suit from the same line. There's no rule saying you need to match of course, but we want you to look sharp together." "I am /so/ thinking of it. Micah, /brown/. Can you imagine me in --" Jax frowns unhappily. "/My/ bedazzler got blowed up. -- My ma /would/ draw an' quarter me," he allows, "but I ain't so sure as that's a /worse/ fate." His priorities are clearly very straight, here. He bounces slightly on his toes, clapping his hands together. "Okay okay. I'll stop bein' difficult. I do love purple. We can go with purple. -- Micah in cream'd be lovely. I guess we gotta. Do the whole measurin' thing too." "I'm /sure/ one of the costumin' classes uses somethin' that'll work. We'll get you fancy enough t'be seen in public. Okay? No need t'be murdered over it. S'enough folks out there tryin' t'kill us without addin' your parents t'the list." Micah nods, offering Isak a smile when Jax seems happy with a choice. "Okay, then. Sounds like we got purple an' cream t'go forward with." "That's the hardest part. The easy part comes in how you dress it up." Isak motions to the raised platform. "If one of you will stand on the platform." He hits a nearby panel. Equipment drops down from the ceiling. "No measuring tapes here. That's terribly old-fashioned. This is a 3D imager. It will take your precise measurements in seconds." "I'm jus' so used t'bein' able to fancy /myself/ up an' now with --" Jax's nose wrinkles, his deep frown still not /entirely/ reassured about the prospect of Brown. He does bounce again, though, excited, at the things dropping from the ceiling. "-- Woah, /seriously/? Eli only always did me the old-fashion way. Oh /man/." He steps up onto the platform, smile bright. "Micah s'like we're in the /future/." "We'll get y'fancied, honey, settle. It'll get figured. We'll raid the classrooms when we get home, okay?" Micah /does/ finally giggle at Jax's bounciness. "Very impressive. Um...provided it's not gonna freak out at m'leg? They don't say you aren't allowed t'have electronics on there or nothin'? Also's...kinda...metal an' carbon fibre an' such." "It isn't quite the same as an airport scanner. It won't hurt anything," Isak nods towards Micah and gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He nods to Jax. "Right. Just stand still. It will take approximately twelve seconds to complete the scan. But if you move too much, we'll have to do it again. You might want to close your eyes. It gets a little bright." He hits a button and the scanner activates, bathing him in a faintly warm white light. The machine makes a humming sound and dings at the end. "You don't understand how much pain this is causin' me," Jax tells Micah with a long-suffering sigh. His fidgeting quiets; he drops his arm to his side, standing very still in the machine. "Oh, bright don't bother --" Though this just trails off as the scanner activates, his expression hard to read behind the large sunglasses. He steps out at the ding, flitting back over to Micah's side. "Your turn t'be all futurey. Well. /More/ futurey than y'usually are." Micah leans in to whisper in Jax's ear when he returns. "If it makes it any better, I can /order/ you t'wear the terrible brown robes. Figure it can't be /too/ painful, considerin'." He gives his husband's shoulder a little squeeze before moving off and stepping up on the platform himself. "Okay, then, beam me up." His eyelids settle closed with a chuckle. "I won't even attempt a Scottish accent," says Isak with a grin. He hits the button on the machine. The white light bathes Micah and then quits with a ping. "And there we are. All set. If you trust me to make you both look dashing, then I can take it from here." Jax's teeth sink down against his lip, his smile curling back bright and suddenly cheered at Micah's whisper. "-- An' suddenly graduation seems amazin' again. You know me so well." He watches the machine work again, hand drumming rapidly against his thigh. "Awesome. M'sure you'll do a fantastic job, sir. You'll call an' let us know when they're ready? M'show ain't for a week. An' thank you, so much." Micah's eyes open again once the light has dimmed, stepping down from the platform and returning to Jax's side. "If y'got this one trustin' you, I'm sure we'll be fine. Thanks for your time." "No need to thank me. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. All I ask is that you tell people which designer you're wearing. I'd...rather you leave off the part of /who/ actually fitted you though. I can do more good behind the scenes right now." Isak keys something in to a panel, presumably to store their scans. "Best of luck with preparations for your show. I'll be in touch for the final fitting." "I'll be sure t'let everyone know." Jax gives Isak another warm smile, and curls his arm through Micah's as his husband returns to his side. "Thank y'again. I'll see you soon, then. You have a nice weekend, sir." With a small tug to Micah's arm, he starts to head for the door. “Thanks anyhow, mutually beneficial or not. For your help.” Micah smiles and waves before following Jax out. "I'd rather you didn't call me sir," Isak calls after. "I may live in a fancy apartment, but we're on equal footing." He pauses, before adding, "The pair of you are very brave." A beat, "Have a good weekend." And he leaves it at that.