2019-08-20 - So Apparently Eating Lead is Bad...

Ignacio is at work by nature's own miracle 15 minutes early. Lo and behold he is doing THINGS with stuff and not just scribbling in his notebook and running his mouth. Wonder of Wonders, apparently anything is possible. He does look kinda tired as hell but when's that ever stopped a twenty something? When the bell rings he looks to the side door to the parking lot. "Boss that you? Dude dude dude dude, I got a question for you.... ya know when you have a minute." He leans over the counter tapping his eraser to the pad of paper he's making an inventory checklist on trying to see without getting up.

August is back to looking like his normal, hale and hearty, grumpy self. Mostly. He comes in with his Espresso Yourself coffee, pastry, and work bag, drops his bag onto his desk. Thoma is up front getting the shop ready to open, making sure everything is in order.

"If this is about carrying pot plants, I already told Ully and Jen no," he says, pulling out his tablet. "I'm not going through the trouble to get licensed for production just to have de la Vega up in my business every five minutes."

Ignacio shifts his weight to his other leg falling silent. "What if I speak Spanish at em?" He pauses asking his third question, "I thought it was legal and shit?" Helpfully, because Ignacio is great like that, he informs (For August's benefit, truly) "You know Ully said-" He pauses just after August's eyebrow goes up, "Don't matter what he said. I have an unrelated question about lead consumption though." Oh yeah it's going to be one of those fun mornings.

August gives Ignacio a bland look. "Do you think the legality of something--especially something which has been locally illegal for decades, and still is federally illegal--has anything at all to do with whether or not a cop gets to harass you? Because that's not how the world works." He looks briefly apologetic (except not really) for breaking this to Ignacio, for about two seconds. Then he folds his arms. "It's bad. That answer your question?"

Ignacio just stares at August and nods slooooowly, "Aaaaah yeah. You don't want him looking in on that and finding out you're an underground saffron dealer. Makes sense now." One might ask how much sleep he's been getting. Really. But lo, here is his take away from that. When he asks if that was his question he looks... confused. THEN the lightbulb comes on. Shaking his head he gingerly limps, with some speed, around the corner over to Roen's desk, "OH! not that no. You, um, you heard Finch has to wait another semester fore going back to New York. If not that's... the crux of it but she's been like mucho bummed out. So I wanted to get her something to cheer her up ya know? And I thought one of those antiquey birdcages but then Itzhak was like if anyone eats it it'll kill us all or something." He waves his hand, "You know how he gets. Anyways it's in like a regular square one but that's not one of them old timey wood and metal deals Soooooo...." He asks with his heart into it, collected and with all sincerity (Lookit that face! HOW CAN YOU TELL THIS FACE NO?!) "Do you have an old timey one that you had from when you were in high school studying this stuff or?"

What was it August had just told Alexander? That he didn't have children? ...right. "Yeah, my underground saffron ring," he mutters.

Unable to decide between am exasperated sigh and a laugh, August just groans and rubs at his face. "Yeah, they can chew on the bars. Lot of paint had lead in it back then. And we didn't make bird cages in high school," he says. "And even if we had you can be sure I wouldn't have it now, that was three decades ago. And it would have been made from popsicle sticks or toothpicks." He pauses, considers Ignacio. "So you want to put something in it? Not just for display?"

Ignacio has that look on his face when he's actually using his creativity for the forces of good instead of being a sardonic little trolling shit. Some might call t wistful, others might call it 'creativity with the safety on'. Okay he might be outright smitten here, but at least it's something positive he's trying to focus on. "I found a canary for her. I cleared it with Gran. She's cool with it. But it's in one of those square boring white ones and I thought some wood old fashioned one? Look sweet in that window in the living room and go with the house."

"A canary?" August is downright amused by the idea of Ignacio giving Finch a canary. Well if anyone can take care of a small bird... "Yeah, we could do something like that." He toys with his beard, gaze roving over the store. "I wonder if I could get something to grow until the right shape. Know what kind if wood is okay for that? Apple? Aspen? Hazelnut?"

Ignacio looks genuinely proud of himself. "Yeah. Well... I've never eaten Aspen before. The other two are pretty tasty." He pauses and bites the muted side of his lip pausing, I can trust you not to tell her right?" Shrugging he clarifies, "I'd really like it to be a surprise if at all possible." His fists tap idle together really thinking it over with a faint, but earnest concern, "That, um... the growin shit thing? That safe? For you I mean."

"It's not about if it's safe for us to eat. Birds chew." Or, the birds August has known do; admittedly he knows nothing about canaries. "We can look it up, though." He starts swiping at his tablet. After a second he glances up at Ignacio, gives him a wounded look. "Of course I won't tell her." Then he's back to his search.

The question of how safe it is gets a shrug. "It's no more dangerous than anything else we do," he says, pulling a face. "Maybe a little frivolous, but it's not like I'm doing it every day. ...here we go." He scrolls though a list, frowning, then his expression clears. "Fig. Perfect." He gets up, nods out towards the private greenhouse. "How fast you need this?"

Ignacio considers and shrugs, "The bird's in the ugly cage right now so it's safe and stuff. I mean she's got three more months before she bugs them again sooo... no rush?" He shrugs. Looking around the smile returns easier. Focus is hard this week but appreciation is not. "I think it'll be fun. And how often do you get to do this without someone being all broken and stressed out?"

"Plenty of time," August says, mostly to himself. He gestures for Ignacio to come with him. "Normally this would take a year and change, but I can get it done quicker than that. And," he gives Ignacio a sidelong, sympathetic look, "not as often as I should. So. That's another reason I don't mind."

They walk slow out to the small, private greenhouse; the store's just opened, and Jen and Cy are already out in the trucks. August's first appointment isn't until the afternoon.

Inside is, among other things, a fig tree August has been helping along. It's a gangling teen of a tree, around five feet tall with a four inch trunk and a half dozen long, spindly branches forking off to floppy, broad leaves that seem out of place on such a small plant. It's sitting in a large, white, fiberglass pot set on a dolly for easy maneuvering.

Ignacio is a little nervous walking into the private greenhouse. This would be where he crashed and burned. But he fixed it! It's fine! Everything is fine! Normally he's been terrified of this stuff. At least he's giving this a chance. Maybe that unicorn thing took some time to see it as a tool and not a flaregun for hell beasties. "Yeah I just worry cause when I see people use stuff it's like there's all these adverse effects and stuff. Gateways being ripped open, loss of limb, indigestion." Sometimes a strange rash?

There's no indication Ignacio's presence was detrimental, at least not that August seems to notice and remark on. His focus is on the fig tree; he considers each branch, running his fingers over the big, broad leaves and testing for how woody each branch has become.
"It's like any other source of power in the world," he says, relearning the tree, checking it over for how it's progressed. "It goes both ways. There's no give without take. It's easy for people to forget that. They do an amazing thing, don't bother to ask what went into it, what all came out." He rubs a leaf between his fingers. "There's a fine line you can walk, just a lot of people aren't willing to."

Finally he selects one. "This should work." He gets out a second pot, fills it half full with potting soil and sets it on the work bench. He rolls the fig over to the bench, guides the selected branch down to the soil. He keeps running his hand along the branch in a repetitive, guessing motion, and eventually Ignacio sees long tendrils reaching out and down, into the new potting soil. Each twig sprouts one, anchoring the branch at six points. New twigs begin to form and entwine, forming an ornate, open lattice.

Ignacio murmurs, "Nooooot so great at walking fine lines anymore." He's trying to keep a sense of humor about it. Still he leans on the counter watching this curious time lapse miracle unfold into shape. The things this kid does when he has no earthly idea and lets his mind go. Those ever so scant moments of lucidity and clarity fixed on his mental image taking place like the thing he saw in the historic photo. What he doesn't realize he's doing is sharing that assumption or that source of inspiration in a 80 yard radius. There's a weird clarity he finds when he lets himself emotionally connect, and in this case it's the thing of wonder he hops can make Finch happy.

Eh, he has his moments.

The process slows when Ignacio shares that image. August glances sidelong at him, amused. The growing resumes its slow, steady pace, adjusting to account for the image.

Gradually Ignacio begins to feel something, a sensation stealing over him. A river flowing in the distance, somewhere beyond a stand of aspen, spruce, fir. <<Not too bad.>> It's August, for certain, but here in the tentative link he sounds different. Deep and resonant, the voice movie makers want to give old trees.

Ignacio is so blissfully fucking unaware of how vibrant he gets when fear is removed from the equation. his eyes are on the growing, reaching and shaping plant. "Yeah I think you're doin pretty good." He really is so unaware of his own mind. No wonder he keeps winding up in trouble. Warming a half smile to August he points, "This is just like the kind I found. See? You got good taste." He stops and adds to him, "Sorry thinks have been messed up lately." He looks to him nodding, "How's things goin with Saffron anyways? She's CUTE dude. Don't think I didn't' see you out there. I was proud of you ya know that?"

August considers Ignacio, sighs, shaking his head and smiling. He stops encouraging and guiding the branches. After taking some time to inspect it, he traces a finger around the source branch, and it breaks clean off. The 'cage' needs work still; a lot of the wood is still green, and it'll need a proper bottom.

He turns to Ignacio tilts his head at home. He places a finger against his own lips in a request for silence, then taps his temple. <<It looks like that because you showed me.>> His attention turns to the cage, and this time he's the one sending an image. Not just an image, a sense of the cage, growing down into the potting soil, forming roots. The xylem and phloem at the center, life energy flowing along it in little streams. <<We'll let it grow like this a few days. Then we can finish it off, put a bottom on it.>> A flicker of a suggestion; plenty of woods safe for a bird on hand to make a cage floor.

The mention of saffron has Ignacio seeing Eleanor, surrounded by a nimbus of ghostly, flitting hummingbirds against a glowing, shivering background: an ocean of bioluminescence with waves shaped like trees. <<Eleanor.>> It feels less like a correction, more like a confirmation.

Now is the time on Sprockets where Ignacio deSantos tries not to lose his shit. There's a moment there where his entire reality is jarred to the left but this place has a weird calm about it and there's that feeling around August's fondness that isn't threatening or frightening. Maybe it's that he's creating which is something he's not really put his soul into for a very, very long time. Something's happening and the world is quiet. The half grin widens, "That's far out. When you learn to do that?" He shakes his head with a snicker, "Fuck that, when did you meet this lady?"

<<Been doing this since I was a kid.>> August smiles. <<Not quite this way, but I've been able to feel people for a long time.>> He taps his head. <<Try it.>>

Maybe because he's hoping to get Ignacio to use his power, August's image of Eleanor shifts. Maybe two or three years ago, when August was first getting set up in town. <<I've been getting coffee from Espresso Yourself for years. And we're both business owners. So we've known each other a while, casually.>>

Ignacio gives the bossman a look like he's just lost his damn mind. He eyes him head to counter and back up. "That's freaky you know that?" He shakes his head, "That think that happened to my leg happens to your head I'm outta a job. You nuts?" Wary here is not a no. Now that he's thinking about it and over thinking it nothing happens. Isn't that the way of it? The story though is cool. Both of them. Dark eyes go back to the growing birdhouse and he doesn't even try to hide it. "Sorry about your greenhouse jefe.." It'll come up eventually and almost more than likely Roen was waiting to see what he'd do with it.

Seeing that reaction and feeling the link drop is enough to convince August to leave off. He says, "What happened to your leg was because you were forcing something in a direction it couldn't go. I'm not doing that with this. I've been using this long enough--without knowing it--that I'm less inclined to do something like that."

He arches an eyebrow at Ignacio, confused. He glances around the greenhouse, squints when he doesn't find anything out of place. "Sorry about it?"

Ignacio is now way overthinking it. The zen moment is gone. To a point he's stopped feeling and started thinking and has entirely lost touch with it in a most curious way. When he's sober it's like a reflex, not a stunt. The moment he tries to focus in on it the ephemera falls apart. Asking for clarity he looks honestly impressed. Huh! That's new. His head gives a negating shake informingwith zero fanfare, "Got dizzy, smacked my head and fell. Or fell and smacked my head. Day I had to call in. I know you might not believe it but I don't like missin work."

"Oh," August says. He sounds nonplussed, brows gathering in a frown. "I mean, you don't need to apologize for that. Shit happens. Wasn't because of anything in here, was it?" He looks around, running his hands along the bench, stopping when he comes to an errant pile of potting soil. He runs his fingers through it, expression becoming still and distant. This goes on for several seconds, until he blinks, looks down at the dirt in his hand, then at Ignacio. Concern floods his features. "Are you okay?" It's in sheer willpower alone that he's not poking and prodding for something to heal.

Ignacio arches an eyebrow growing quiet looking around"Hmm? Oh! no. no, man. The greenhouse is okay. Just my medsbeen fuckin with me. COud be the walkin or not getting enough food with it or something. Really it was just too close together. Side effect bullshit." Taking a deep breath he confides, "She kinda freaked out anyways. Wants to whlp numb out the leg buuuuut wants me to talk to my doctor about switchin my script off what I got because it's just inefficient." With a deep sigh he goes back to examining the cage to see if it's grown anymore. "Jsut gotta find someone out here and fit in an appointment. It's left me kinda off lately." With all honesty and confidence he assures, "I have literally been through worse. it's fine it's jsut... always fuckin there."

August visibly relaxes. Well that's all something he can relate to, even if he lucked out in the overall and Ignacio didn't. "Yeah, sounds like it's not working anymore, which," he shrugs, a bit helplessly, "is what happens, long term. Was a while before we got my back manageable."

He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. "And, look, I know she desperately wants to fix it, but...make sure that's what you want." He arches an eyebrow. "I could probably have someone remove all my scars, even fix all the bone damage. But...I don't want to do that. And I know that. Even if it means I'm an achy bastard in the winter." His mouth turns at one corner in a wry smile.

Ignacio nods slowly and takes one of those deep breaths that leaves the head shaking, "Maaaaan if somene could tell me 'Yeah, chico, we'll jsut put in a new muscle where the other one got tore out so it isn't screaming at you all day? I'd be like if I have to give up my left nut for that I'm fuckin volunteering." His hands rub over his face slowly leveling withthe other person who fucking gets it. "I'm only twenty seven, man. soon I'll have been like this almost half my life. I'm still fuckin young yet. I wanted..." There's taht fire in his belly. He reels it back though,taking a moment. "Everything I wanted for me is gone because of this including some people I care about. What I want? is for her to not have to feel like shit jsut so I can feel better."

He chews idly on the nerve damaged side of his lip and speculated, "S'why I agreed to try doin this her way or tryin at least to get in to get shit changed up cause that made her feel bad too but like... in a different way. That didn't sit okay with me, ya know?" Tonight's headline will read: Author lacks words. Story at 11. "I really... like her and she has to deal with enough people making her feel shitty. I don't want to do that too. So..." He gestures at the bird cage. Ta da. "I just... When that happened I didn't wan tto scare anyone. That shit's freaky and you like... you walk around with the face and all but you're like a caring fucking sponge. You're like that Oncologist from House. I can hear you caring man." A slow grin forms with a snicker. "Man I need to re-watch that again. " And he's a pop culture sponge

August nods at Ignacio. "I'm not trying to convince you in either direction. I remember how it felt, at your age, fucked up beyond belief, no end in sight. I'd definitely have accepted a replacement for all my smashed bones back then."

He sighs, puts his hands on his hips. "There's no two ways about it. Using the power attracts their attention. She's made her peace with that. So it's for you to decide what you want, and keep in mind--it's okay, if what you want, is for her to be safe. Letting the doctors have their shot, that's not the worst thing. They can do amazing new shit these days."

A long, slow sigh and roll of his eyes. "Caring sponge," he mutters. "Look, we're going to find out about shit one way or another. You're not obligated to tell anyone anything, at least not someone like me. But if you're not telling me because you're concerned about worrying me, man," he laughs, shakes his head. "don't. I can take it. Medical stuff, like this? It's way more my up my alley than," he gestures in what could be thought of as a random direction, but which he knows, in his gut, is the Murray House, "this other shit."

Ignacio nods thoughtfully weighing in all the sides of all the options. When the roll of Roen's eyes comes though Iggy snappoints with a self-satisfied half grin. "Eeeeeh there it is!" He reaches out and up with a hand to pat the bossman's arm. "Maybe I don't like disappointing people." Arching an eyebrow he looks over the counter at the tile he's not intimately familiar with and back. "I found Jen's missing right though." Looking around he adds, perhaps hilariously from the sourse of EVERYTHING IS FINE!, "You know it's a good thing to be afraid. Let's us know we're alive; still human. We can't get trained for this stuff. We can think we know... we don't. We really... really don't. And every time we think we do they'll just change the rules on us, but we can learn to trust one another and that's kinda a good thing I think. It's when we run out of the ability to do that stuff and talk about it?" He scoffs shaking his head murmuring, "And fuck, when it gets too commonplace we stop remembering it ain't fuckin normal or natural? I think that's when we lose ourselves."

Sure, now he's a fucking fortune cookie.

"I'd say I'm a mess man but we all kinda are. but maybe this?" He tests the new growth on the cage-plant with a finger. So fucking cool. "Maaaaaybe we can keep working to make it less messy. Either way? This is de leche, man. So fucking cool. I think... it's a good idea. I get worried sometimes she thins her future is fixed in stone. Nice to remember sometimes this ain't all it is." He pauses wondering, "Songbirds real chatty?"

"Fear's healthy," August agrees. He leans against the workbench. "You just have to learn how to listen to it, rather than letting it make all the decisions. Same thing goes for bravery, really--at a certain point, either of those becomes selfish. Then you're just a coward, or reckless. It's all about balance, and that's something we spend our whole lives looking for." He bobs his eyebrows, including himself in that number.

"That's a good thing to focus on with her. For one thing, she's got something her ancestors didn't have, and that's us." He looks down at the potting soil he just used to see Ignacio's no good, very bad day, draws a shape in it. "I don't believe in fate. Nothing's predetermined. Sure, some things are likely due to what's come before, but set in stone?" He stops drawing, shakes his head. He's made a skeletal tree.

"Chatty? I guess they would be. Not sure, I've never had one as a pet."

Ignacio stays leaning on the counter watching the curious marvel still. Eh, he might be tweaking a bit, or just really damn excited like a manpuppy over this idea finally coming together tangibly. August lists off some of the benefits of advantage they hand and that gets deSantos to snap those brown eyes upward. "Literally just discussed that the other night. Kinda wanted to talk to you about that actually. Been thinking about Julia's... situation and the lady Itzhak was helpin out." looking up his tongue runs along his bottom lip thoughtfully, "Thinking maybe there's somethin we can do like... this shit is generational? Soooo it's genetic...clearly." He pauses and adds off handed, "Or it's Gray Harbor and something n teh other side is a parasite and we might be able to ... find information about ... I dunno helping her cope with this? Even it out? fix her mojo or something. We dunno but...you know we were thinking maybe the problem isn't here it's there. Maybe it doesn't have to be this way." He pauses considering all the damages done until now. "Well for her."

Contemplating the cage ahe murmurs, "Guess we'll find out." Ether it's about the bird being chatty or the 'curse'. Who knows. What he does clarify is, "We forgot to asdd a hole for the door, or we adding that after?"

August thinks about that. "I guess it depends if her family's been here since the curse began. That might suggest it's something here that started it. Genetic," he winces, shakes his head, "that feels off. Maybe there's a genetic component? But everything I know of genetics doesn't account for something like this. This is too..." His voice fades. He's tracing the tree he's drawn over and over again, trying to put into words what he's feeling in his gut.

After a time, August shakes his head, gives up. "I think it's closer to what Julia's dealing with. Like you say--something from over There, influencing things here. Driving them. Which means maybe we can do something about it."

"After," he says of a door. "Pick a spot, then we cut it out, frame it, put a hinge on it."

Ignacio watches, though that brimming well of excitement of the project is set to simmer now that things have happened. Something good in the world being made manifest, man! Fingers push though his longish hair and he murmurs thoughtfully, "I'm calling it a soul parasite." Pausing at how utterly pedantic that sounds he offers, "I was up all last night writing." Ah. That'd do it. "Like...two things leap out at me and one is a degenerative neurological condition. And really maybe tht is something that can be postponed or avoided or... I don't fuckin know. But the other is something... over there at some point latched on and is just got a dread workshop like it's got that family on tap."

Looking back up to Roen e says with those hints of informative pride, "Been doing some reading and I found some stories about those things sometimes setting up like... I don't wanna say a farm but it's kinda like a terror crop rotation. So that there's just enough leeway that it has room for growth and stuff so it can persist... or it's a fuckin undiagnosed brain tumor or some shit. Either way? Kinda would rather have Finch free of parasites of any sort making her sad and her day shitty. SO?" His hands go out to the cage. Randomly he gestures a rectangle with his finger. "Here's prolly good. Also will it be able to come off the base to clean and stuff? I might have Itzhak lend me his spot welder to get somethin for that to make clean up easier."

"Got it," August says of the door. Like Ignacio, he traces the rectangle, but unlike when Ignacio did it, the branches in that spot snap off near-perfectly. August sweeps those twigs out; the ends seal up nice and smooth, leaving a little doorway. He takes the twigs, carefully arranges them on the potting soil. The broken ends slowly merge together, forming a small door. He sets that next to the cage. "You'll want to get a proper latch and hinge. I'd suggest we get a bottom for it, maybe the bottom of a wooden box, or a chunk of a safe metal. Something that won't be damaged by the bird." Or it's poop, his wry expression suggests.

"Soul parasite," he echoes, nods. "That sounds like a solid description." He folds his arms at the notion of terror crop rotation, shrugs. "That sounds a lot like what we're dealing with, yeah. Sp whatever help she," an eyebrow goes up, "and you need, you've got it. At least from me, but I'm sure from Itzhak too." August isn't above voluntolding Itzhak for such things.

Ignacio watches with a passive amazement. Even he has to admit sometimes the terrifying can be wondrous. Eyebrows arch up looking and there's a hmm of agreement, "Yeah ya know I think there's like one of those old metal lunch tray things at the hardware store for putting plants on. I can pick that up today." Then there's the offer. nominally he'd argue the point but instead the bullshit du jour gets replaced with gratitude, "Pajarito and I, we'd really appreciate that." Looking around he says loud enough eyeing the front, "Who knows, maybe we can poke around Oz and get Finch a doom free home, me a leg, Itzhak some courage, and Ully a brain!" that wide half grin forms bracing for impact. He's not within earshot from the private greenhouse but somewhere it's easy to imagine hearing Ully yell back "I'll just take yours, deSantos. You ain't usin it!" chiefly because they have this conversation near once a day. Two peas in a pod, they.

"Maybe we can," August agrees, picking up the little door and turning it over in his hands. He sets it against the cage. "Okay. Let's let this do it's thing. We can harvest it soon as you've got your metal tray. That'll give it time to harden." He nods towards the shop. "Which gives us time to go over inventory." He gives Ignacio a look of, 'since I know you and Ully haven't done it yet.'