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Dramatis Personae Lucien, Jax, Micah	17 May 2014 Breakfast and the concerns of mutant kids.
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Basement - Greenwich Village
The lowest level of this home is always kept securely locked, and from the bottom of the staircase it is clear that this floor is nothing like the ones above it. The decor is dark and severe, the room outfitted in black and steel. One wall is fairly lined with whips and paddles and crops and canes of all sorts. Against another, a large St. Andrew's Cross; to either side of it there are a pair of very sturdy cages, one taller and narrower, one shorter and squatter. The king-sized bed is constructed of black steel as well, its frame punctuated with restraint hoops, perfect for attaching chains or handcuffs to. In one corner there is another free-standing frame; most often there is a sling or swing of one sort or another attached, but with a liberal number of connection hooks its purposes are versatile. Along with some cabinets and drawers, assorted other pieces of furniture are arranged around the room: a pair of coffins, a steel bondage chair, a restraint bench, among others; but they all leave little question as to their general purpose. A few doors lead to other rooms: a smaller stark white room in back, with faux-medical decor, a sumptuously decorated room with comfortable couches and a very large wardrobe of clothing and costumes, a large bathroom, a spacious storage room stocked full of a wide assortment of toys; a plush bedroom that seems downright /normal/ compared to the rest, with adjacent sitting room. It has a door leading out to the side of the house and another one leading into a tiny kitchenette. Incongruously, a final door leads to a quite tame and well-stocked wine cellar: with many expensive, exquisite and hard-to-obtain vintages of wine and other liquors, it is perhaps the real reason Lucien keeps his basement locked tight. It's quiet this morning; down here in the basement not much carries through from the rest of the house. In the soundproofed dungeon there's not even many city-noises from outside, as the world beyond the house wakes up. Just a soft opening of door, quiet footsteps down the stairs. Lucien is casually dressed, dark blue jeans and a button-down in deepening shades from pale grey to black. He carries a tray in his hands -- glasses of orange juice, tofu scramble with tomatoes and olives and capers, garlicky grits, steaming cups of Darjeeling. He's quiet, too, as he sets this tray down on the small table beside the large steel-framed bed. Jax's sleep, lately, for a change, has not filled the room with horrible visions -- though most nights it's still clear enough when he's /having/ nightmares from his restless twitching, quiet unhappy sounds. This past night there's been none of that. Just peaceful contented quiet, nestled up snug against Micah's side. The bandages have come off his fresh tattoos, the dove and the dragonfly and the small plain black line etched into his forearm, and between these and the colourful array of welts and bruises darkening his back and legs and the new piercings it's possible there's not a /genuinely/ comfortable position for him /to/ be lying in. But he seems unbothered, one leg tangled up with his husband's, his breathing quietly regular until those footsteps sound. Powers or no powers he's still got many years of well-earned /paranoia/ that keeps his sleep none-too-deep; his breathing catches, muscles tensing as he cracks an eye open. The familiar face and smell of food relax him again, a small smile on his face. "Oh -- oh gosh. Y'didn't -- hafta --" His voice is a sleepy mumble. Micah very likely slept deeper, messy-tousled head nestled up against Jax's shoulder with not a sound or movement coming from him. He's dressed simply in a pair of light cotton navy pajama pants with the left leg tied off at the knee level, a plain white T-shirt worn on top. His prosthetic leg is propped within easy reach near the bed. Having gotten used to sharing a room with Jax, movement and lights and such do not wake him. It is only when Jax speaks that he shifts, gnaws a little at his husband's shoulder reflexively, and eventually cracks an eyelid to peer up at Lucien. "Oh...mornin', hi." Slowly, he blinks and shifts to be able to focus both eyes on the room. "No, I didn't have to." Beside the tray Lucien sets down a small zippered pouch, pilfered from Jax's bag. "I could take it away, if you'd rather. But it is a /very/ good Darj." His eyes skim over the pair in the bed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did you sleep well?" Jax, on the other hand, isn't actually dressed at all, just tucked beneath the soft black sheets and, currently, burrowing just a little closer to Micah. A small pleased purr murmurs briefly in his throat at the gnawing, and he nuzzles in against Micah's chest before looking back up to Lucien. "Best I have in --" His cheeks flush a little darker. "I slept good, yeah. An' no, thank you, tea sounds -- fantastic, you --" Blearily, he squints over at the tray. The pouch. "Oh -- oh. You're kinda spoilin' us. Did /you/ get some sleep, honey, you was. Up late." "Mmn, no, that's sweet, hon. Thanks." Micah presses a kiss to Jax's temple before sitting himself up (most of the way, he's still propped a bit on pillows). "Was...good, thanks." He, too, glances at the pouch. "Want I should stab you so's y'can eat, sugar?" he offers with a rub of his hand over Jax's belly, approximately where the injections might be placed. "Maybe a little bit," Lucien agrees. "But it /is/ the weekend, and that is what weekends are for." He looks over Jax again, lips pressing together with brief thoughtfulness. "And you are feeling alright?" He picks the pouch back up, proffering it towards Micah. "I slept. Not, perhaps, much. Sera was up early." His brows rumple just a little inward at that, though it clears up with the following: "It's looking to be quite a beautiful day. Do you have plans for it?" "Get stabbed with needles," Jax answers, stretching lazily with a deeper purr as the tight muscles of his belly press up into Micah's rubbing fingers. "Guess by this'n first. /Then/ by my boss. Kinda jus' pilin' on the colour. Doin' the skull today, that's gonna be -- pretty much torture." His nose crinkles up, eye closing. "M'feelin' --" He exhales a breathy laugh. "Real -- real sore. Like every part'a me's screamin' if I try to move." His tone sounds distinctly pleased, with this assessment. "-- An' I gotta paint the rest'a Evolve when I'm done with the needlin'. S'everythin' aright?" His own brows raise in counterpoint to Lucien's furrow. "Mmhmm, weekend," Micah agrees, clearly still a bit sleepy. He reaches for the pouch, tugging at the sheet and then rolling it down to expose Jax's belly. "Y'sure y'wanna do the ink /then/ paint? Seems like a poor choice of order. Might make it hard...hard/er/ t'be reachin' an' carryin' an' paintin' after." His tongue clucks softly as he thinks. "Not a lotta plans on my end, other'n maybe helpin' out over Evolve. Seein' what the kids're up to." He pulls out the syringe and vial of insulin and an alcohol wipe, setting them up on the bedside table before prepping the syringe. Then he slides the alcohol wipe over Jax's skin. "Ready, hon?" "Skull tattoo. That does sound like a particularly sadistic form of torture." Lucien moves to rest one arm up against a steel post of the bed, weight leaning into it as he watches this preparation. "Oh. Fine. She's just been --" For a moment his expression is a little distracted, eyes flicking away to some spot on the wall. He shakes his head quickly, looking back to the others. "Good. It sounds like a successful evening, then. How much is left to /do/ with Evolve? Do they have an opening date? Is it going to be very publicized?" "It is hands-down the most painful of all the ink I had. I am not," Jax admits with a small shudder, "lookin' forward to it. Thought it'd be the last I ever had to /get/ needles jammed in my skull /last/ time I did it." His shudder doesn't last, though. He draws in a quiet breath at the cool alcohol against his skin, nodding as he settles very gently back against the pillows. "Oh, I ain't sure, but m'boss is doin' this all free so I jus' take what slots he's got open. S'booked solid most all afternoon an' evenin'." He glances back up at Lucien, shifting just a little closer to Micah and relaxing, muscles growing less taut. "M'ready," he agrees quietly. "An' they're plannin' to open the twenty-eighth. I don't know what they've decided 'bout bein' quiet or not yet. S'Sera aright?" Micah shifts onto his left hip at Jax's side so that his right hand can deliver the injection, propping on his left arm. Once the needle sinks into flesh, he slides himself further down even as the plunger depresses, moving to where he can seek Jax's lips with his own. The kiss holds and deepens until the medication is delivered, through the short wait before pulling the needle back out, breaking only when Micah needs to pull away and deposit the used syringe into the small portable sharps box. He eyes the injection site to make sure there is no bleeding or leakage after. "Somethin' goin' on with Sera? Yeah...ain't really asked what Shane an' Aly wanna do. /Might/ not wanna make the openin' too loud. Special event's like to invite negative attention there..." Lucien's eyes drop back to the others with a touch more interest, a faint flush to his cheeks as he watches this procedure. Then looks away, head shaking slightly. "No. She's fine." Though he seems to reconsider this answer a moment later, fingers drumming hard against the steel frame of the bed. "She has been having some difficulties with her abilities -- you -- have some experience with mutant children, non?" He presses his lips together, giving a thoughtful hum. "There will be negative attention no matter what, really." Jax's head tips in towards Micah's, his breathing slightly quickened as the needle sinks in. He meets Micah's lips with his own, hand lifting to curl against the back of the other man's head. "Love you, sir," he whispers, shivering as Micah pulls the needle back. "An' yeah s'gonna be people kickin' up a fuss no matter what, think it's just -- a question of how fast an' how much they want t'deal with." His brow rumples, and he nestles in closer to Micah's side once his medication is finished. "I mean, I got Spence. Dealt with a few others here an' there. Ain't /many/ of 'em around." "Love you," Micah returns as he settles close in at Jax's side. "Y'wanna sit, hon?" This is asked with a slightly arched brow of Lucien. "I mean...here or...I'm sure there's chairs if you'd rather. Don't mean t'make you stand about." He nods along with Jax's explanation of Spencer. "Depends on your meanin' of 'children'. Been 'round a /lotta/ teenagers. Not too many of the little ones manifestin' earlier. I mean...the twins. But they were older by the time any of us met 'em an' their...background's kinda unique, too." Again, he nods agreement with Jax at the talk of Evolve. "An' there /is/ gonna be negative attention. S'just a matter of /degrees/." "No, children like -- children." Lucien moves closer to settle down on the edge of the bed, hands folding in his lap. "There /aren't/ many of them around, unfortunately, and what I have heard --" His lips press together, head bowing. "You should drink your tea. It will grow cold." His fingers curl in against his knee, other hand lifting to scrub through his hair, leaving it somewhat messier than before. "The twenty-eighth. I do not know whether I should bring the children or stay far from the neighborhood on that day." "That evenin', really." Jax reaches over past Micah with a noticeable wince, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he moves, to take one of the mugs off the tray. "S'my graduation in the mornin', Shane's holdin' a party at Evolve after. S'pose its first full /proper/ day of bein' open'll be the next'n." He curls his fingers around his mug, smiling as he draws in a breath of the steam. "The twins was born blue, yeah. Though --" His smile fades, and he snuggles in closer to Micah's side. "I've also heard -- well, they was maybe lucky, from what I've heard. Lotta mutant kids don't always -- s'Sera been sick?" "Mel's baby," Micah says with some hesitation. "She's pretty clearly expressin' an' X-gene as well. What's it you're needin' t'know, sugar? You're startin' t'worry me." His brows knit along with that declaration, as if it needed backing up. Obediently, he retrieves a tea mug and cradles it in his hands. As it did already have some time to cool, he sips from it without waiting long. "Thanks, hon. S'wonderful. Did you eat already?" His fingers tap on the side of the mug. "You're welcome t'come. I dunno what t'tell you on bringin' the kids or not." "I had heard," Lucien admits with a small sharp exhale at the mention of Melinda's child. "I just do not know what resources are actually out there to help mutant /children/ learn -- control. Or --" He drops his hand back to his lap. "I have been looking at statistics. The survival rate for children displaying early-onset abilities is discouraging. To say the least. I do not know if she is /sick/ so much as being psionic is not easy to cope with. Dr. Kriger is following her at Mendel but." He shakes his head quickly. "Your boys all seem healthy, though. -- I have not yet eaten, no." "There ain't a lot out there for mutant kids," Jackson answers regretfully. "Our school always wants t'expand but we don't got the funds and mutant kids is just so /rare/ s'hard --" He bites down on his lip, releasing it to take a sip of tea. "Our kids been healthy -- right now." His brows pull together. "Spence's abilities always been crazy unstable, though, when he first come to us it was -- scary. Still is, really. S'a pretty big chance of things goin' horrible wrong as he grows an' -- he's got the same doc. We jus' make sure he's bein' seen regular. Hope if things start fluctuatin' again we'll catch it quick." "You should," Micah says when Lucien mentions not having eaten. "Y'made all this food, y'should have some." His worried face isn't going away with the concerns about Sera. "Well, admittedly, a lotta the kids who express powers're expressin' /physical/ ones that ain't always compatible with life. Sera's...at least, seem less on the order of /those/. Is she havin' seizures an' headaches an' stuff, or s'it just...a lot mentally, emotionally for her?" "Both." Lucien's fingers twine together where they rest in his lap. "The neurological issues I can mitigate but -- it's a stopgap, really. I can't be around her /all/ the time." Though a tense edge to his tone hints he has perhaps entertained thoughts of trying. "/Have/ things been stable with Spencer, then? I have been trawling the internet for resources for guardians but -- most of what I find is --" Jax takes another sip of tea, and then slides forward, the sheets falling down around his hips as he leans in to set his mug in Lucien's hands. "Less than optimistic?" he fills in in a flat voice, perhaps having visited many of the same sites. "On the plus side, with the Clinic here we /got/ pretty much the best resource right in our backyard. An' -- yeah. Spence has been fine but. Even before Dr. Saavedro, the school doctors always been real careful to check up on him lots, with mutant kids --" He hesitates, biting own on his lip. "Apologies. I wish I /did/ know better resources. But if she's got a doctor -- I can talk with folks an' see about gettin' her a -- mentor of some sort. Who can maybe help with her focus. Control." "Ohno, Luci, I'm sorry." Micah scoots forward a bit to be able to place a hand on Lucien's shoulder. "Have they gotten her a neurological specialist? I know...Dr. Toure, at least, does some consultin' over at the Clinic. But it'd be worth a team tryin' t'isolate where the issues are comin' from for her. It could be that medications to at least mitigate seizures or somethin' of the sort would be a huge help. Has she had any EEG's done?" He sighs down at his tea, just a heavier exhalation. "The psych team over there's pretty good at handlin' the wide variety of...strangeness we've thrown at 'em so far, at least, too." "Oh -- yes. The medical team there is taking quite good care of her. It is just -- difficult, I suppose. There are very few other families -- other children around," Lucien says with a small downward twitch of lips, "who have been through -- you know, with Matt there were seven /million/ cancer support groups around the city they pointed him towards. As best I can tell there are vanishingly few /peers/ she might talk to. And the few who do turn up die in short order." He lifts the cup that has found its way into his hands, drawing a long swallow of tea from it. "Forgive me. This is not what I /meant/ to wake you up with. It was just meant to be --" He lifts one hand from the mug, unfurling fingers towards the tray of food. "A pleasant start to your day." "There ain't many," Jax agrees, tipping his head forward to bonk his forehead up lightly against the back of Lucien's shoulder. "Could be if y'want t'find 'em we'll hafta /start/ a group of some kind. City this size you're bound t'have more luck than most places." He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Lucien's clothed shoulder. "Honey-honey, you're a pleasant start t'any day. You got nothin' t'apologize for. All the help you done give /our/ family, you gotta /know/ we're always here if yours needs nothin'." "Ohgood. Good. I'm glad she's gettin' the care she needs, at least." Micah chews at his lower lip thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how we'd arrange t'do it /safely/, considerin' the way people react t'kids with mutations? As far as advertisin', that is. But I spent a fair amount of time as a kid in support groups an' summer camps an' activity weekends an' such for...kids with disabilities in general an' with limb differences specifically. Sure we could start some things up for kids expressin' their X-genes early. Partner with the school. A lotta things like the support groups start t'run themselves, through the families. They just need a kickstart an' a place t'meet." He takes another sip of his tea. "I just hesitate t'let the general public know where a bunch of mutant kids're gonna be on the regular, y'know? Maybe if they let us use space at the Clinic. Some place that's gonna offer protection." Micah's hand lifts to squeeze at Lucien's shoulder again. "Honey, you /are/ a pleasant start t'the day," he echoes Jax's reassurance. "An' with all this lovely food we're lettin' go cold. Y'should eat with us. That'll be /extra/ pleasant." "It would certainly have to be discreet. I'd /like/ to imagine /even/ the most virulently anti-mutant would think twice before hurting a group of children but." Lucien's smile is thin as he leans slightly back, into the offered touches. "The world doesn't generally reward that kind of optimism." He reaches his hand back, curling it around behind himself to rest a hand against the back of Jax's shoulder, then curl his nails inward to trail against the skin. "Food. Right. I'll stay." "I think the Clinic'd be down for it. There's other support groups that meet. Can talk t'them at least, an' see. An' they'd be a good startin' place t'reach out t'families who come in with kids, see if that'd /be/ a helpful -- helpful --" Jax's voice trails off in a shaky-sharp gasp at the press of nails to bruised skin. He leans in against Lucien, his eye closing. "... extra pleasant," he agrees, somewhat weakly. "Not after what happened at the Lofts," Micah concludes, shaking his head at Lucien's comment on optimism. "Killed enough kids as /didn't/ even have special abilities. Just 'cause they was near folks. No...we can't underestimate the things people'd do." His lips twitch into a hint of smile, watching Lucien's hand move over Jax. "Food first. Already gave Jax his insulin, an' we don't want him goin' all hypoglycaemic on us 'cause we didn't feed 'im." Lucien's nails press in harder, digging in firm against Jax's shoulderblade. "Food first," he allows, fingertips kneading in against the skin before he drops his hand and reaches forward to take one of the small bowls of grits and turn to set it in Jax's hand. Jax's breathing is still shaky, body trembling against Lucien's for this harder dig. A tiny whimper catches in his throat, his cheeks flushing deep. He's still shivering slightly as he takes the bowl and sits up straighter, giving Micah a small nod. "Food. Right. Yessir." Micah drops a hand to Jax's leg, squeezing at it gently as his other does the same to Lucien's shoulder. "Food first. You, too," he adds, indicating Lucien. His hands drop , reaching for a plate of food for himself, as well. "After that, I think there's a little unscheduled time we can play with."