Logs:Fix It

Fix It
Dramatis Personae Joshua, Spencer, Tag, Mirror	2020-10-15 "Welcome home."
Location Salinas Residence - Oaxaca, Mexico / <NYC> Greyhaus - Village Lofts
Salinas Residence - Oaxaca, Mexico No warning precedes Spencer's abrupt arrival. One moment there was no hysterical teenager here, and then next there is, swaying and nearly toppling in his exhaustion. He's shivering and hugging himself as if cold, his eyes huge and red, his face damp with tears. "Sorry," is the first thing out of his mouth, and he has to choke back a sob to get out the rest, "the cops -- killed Flicker." Fresh tears well up and he reaches for Joshua, but quickly catches himself and shoves his hands under the opposite arms. "Please -- please help him." It is actually pretty warm out here on the little patio, a wide view of green mountains spreading out around and a faint breeze pulling at the yarn in Joshua's hands. There's a game of cat's cradle strung between his calloused fingers, a young girl in front of him caaarefully plucking at it to start twisting it around her own. She grimaces, makes a face when he turns, eyes narrowing, the string game tangling itself into a hopeless muss, evidently more bothered by this than the Sudden Teenager who appeared out of nowhere. "{Can you fix it?}" she frets, holding it out toward Joshua. "{I'm sorry,}" is all he demurs, quiet as he stands. One touch to Spencer's shoulder and as swiftly as the boy appeared, the both of them have vanished. --- <NYC> Greyhaus - Village Lofts It's growing late on Thursday when a key scrapes in the lock -- a few times, first, as if someone on the other side isn't quite aiming it correctly with the first couple attempts. But eventually Joshua does manage to unlock it, to push the door open, to drag himself inside. His dark hair is a shaggy mess, his eyes shadowed, his faded old blue tee shirt rumpled; he smells badly in need of a shower. He leans back against the door to close it (keys still in the lock), slowly sinking down to the floor to start unlacing his sneakers. Tag is curled up on the couch, tucked under one of Dusk's massive wings, wearing just a rainbow tanktop, no binder, and soft black pajama pants with rainbow contrast stitching. He has a sketchbook in his lap and a pencil tucked behind one ear, poking out from his pale blue, pink, and silver hair. He was already looking expectantly toward the door by the time Joshua makes it through, and now he taps the remote to pause The Haunting of Bly Manor streaming on the TV. "Oh, man...welcome home. Coffee?" Without waiting for an answer, he's already padding into the kitchen to start the prep. "You don't look like you're ready for bad news, but it's probably better you hear it from us than at work..." Over on the couch, too, currently Mirror is wearing Dusk's skin, shirtless and in a pair of jeans. One huge dark wing has been draped around Tag, but he pulls it carefully back in against his shoulder when the other man gets up. "Flicker's dead." His knees pull up to his chest, wings wrapping around them. "Can you even go to work? You look like shit." Joshua's just tugged one sneaker off, tossed it aside. He's halfway through working at the knot of the second, but his eyes shoot up at this announcement. He drops his hand. Then lifts it to his mouth. Then drops it again. Then lifts it, stifling a ragged bark of laughter. His head bows, his knuckles grinding into his eyes. "Fuck me," comes very softly under his breath. He tugs hard at his shoe, pulling it off without untying it. "I've had -- so much coffee." Tag flinches at Mirror's words, his shoulders hunching in sharply. "{Fuck,}" he murmurs softly, in Mandarin. His hands falter as he starts to pour a scoop of beans into the grinder. "Do you...want more?" He leans over to counter to peer at Joshua dubiously. "You...weren't you in Oaxaca? With your family?" He sounds extremely unsure about this, now. Mirror pulls themselves up off the couch, slow and uncomfortable. They stretch a wing towards Joshua, but pull it back shy of actually touching him. "Enough coffee to get you through work?" They sound veeery skeptical. "You seem just about ready to join him." Joshua keeps his hand pressed over his face for a moment, his breathing a little ragged. He rises slow, his other hand resting, steadying, against the wall. "Yeah." Both hands drop to his sides as he trudges into the apartment. Leans up against Mirror!Dusk's wing. "I was." His knuckles dig at his eyes again. "Spence came. Yesterday? Two days ago." Tag resumes his coffee prep, his movements slower and more deliberate, now. Then stutters to a stop again. "Spence? Oh..." The coffee grinder whirls, loud and chaotic for just a moment. "You've...been back." It's not a question. "Were you...is he still..." His teeth grind softly. "Is he still...dead?" Mirror unfurls their wing again, pressing it slowly against Joshua's back. His brows pull together. Slow, deep. His wing tightens in its grip, his breath pulling in gradually. "Oh." It's soft. The wing pulls back -- shrinks, really, withering, crumpling, morphing as their form shifts. When it is done, Joshua is looking back at himself -- considerably less haggard. Mirror rests a hand on their counterpart's shoulder. Squeezes, brief. "Fuck the coffee. Sit. Rest. I got this shift." "Tried. Won't even tell me where he is." Joshua goes to sink down onto the couch, crumpling forward with his head resting in his hands. "I'm sorry." There's a heaviness to his voice, his fingers clenched hard into his shaggy dark hair. "Cops did the labs a big favor." Tag pushes the coffee grinder aside and fills a glass with water, instead, bringing this to Joshua as he sinks down beside him. "Cops don't know what the fuck they've done. He's just another dead mutie to them." He leans his shoulder gently against Joshua's, offering the glass. "I'm sorry that..." He bites his lower lip, shaking his head. "Thank you for trying." "Who knows where he is. I've tried to make sense of that crap." Mirror!Joshua is trudging off toward his bedroom, hands shoved into his pockets now. "Best I can figure, it's the telestial kingdom." Joshua's head does not lift from his hands. His shoulders curl tighter, his breath pushed out through his teeth. "That's not even a fucking word."