Logs:D'État

D'État
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Daiki, Matt, Mirror, Winona, David, Elie, Wendy, Flèche
In Absentia Rasheed, Emma	2024-07-01 "I just hope you know what you're doing."
Location a bloodless revolution
23 may. hfc sanctum. In the grand scheme of things it has not, really, been all that long since the White Court's bishop was down here, tucked in his favorite booth (nearest the marine aquarium) and updating himself on ongoing progress. But given the various chaoses in the Court and the city at large, it feels a bit like another lifetime. The Knight across from him looks like she's seen several miles of bad road in the interim, just recently back in town from Who Knows Where and bearing several new scars and bruises for the journey. Her injuries haven't cramped her sense of style, or her attitude; she's looking chic as ever as she finishes her conversation and sweeps out of the lounge. Lucien is left alone at the table, sipping at his tea and making notes in his tablet as if he had never left. Daiki learned his slipping-in-unobtrusively skills from Lucien, but even without the handicap of his power he is no match for the master. Not yet. Nevertheless, he materializes after the Knight departs, dropping into the seat she vacated with a tablet tucked into the crook of his arm. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon." His voice is quiet, his gaze steady, but his fingers are gripping the edge of the tablet just a little too tightly. "I think I understand why you are, though." His lips compress so subtly few would notice it at all. "You've been through a lot, and the work can help, but the work is also a lot. Let me help you find a balance that's good for you and good for the Court." He sets his tablet down and squares it with the edge of the table. "You've taught me well, and I'm ready to take on more." His smile is small but not as hesitant and shy as most would read it. "I would like to take on more." Lucien's head tilts just slightly, like listening to something at the far edge of hearing just shortly before Daiki sits. "I've had too much time already for sitting around. Bad enough to do it in a cell; I'd go half mad twiddling my thumbs at home as well." He finishes his current notations and minimizes his window, flicking through several others before he sets his stylus down neat in its groove. "I feel as though I have a mountain of catching up to sift through before I could even begin to sort through what to delegate." There's a genuine warmth in his eyes when he looks up, little though it touches his lips. "Perhaps for now we might just start with how you have been, non? Surely Court business can wait." --- 25 may. hfc sanctum. Matt hasn't been an infrequent sight here before, but it has been an eventful week, and there's something bright and sharp about him when he sweeps out of the elevator into the Sanctum. "Good morning, dear." He drops into the seat across from Mirror. "Loved your Politico piece on the nuke." He sips at his tea and, from behind the cup, adds, "It really blew up. Bravo! If you shake the same tree from a little farther left--say, ProPublica? A congressperson or two may fall out. Oh!" He straightens from where he'd started to drape back. "Is Lourdes back from Iowa, yet? I can debrief her if she is." "Is that what you think it takes." Mirror's tone is curious, but very mildly so. They don't look up, when Matt arrives; they're typing busily and keep typing. "And, haven't you heard?" Their mouth twitches, quick and amused. "Our Bishop has returned from the dead. I'm sure you must be elated. Despite his harrowing ordeal he's picking up again pretty seamlessly, so -- unless you have something more to offer --" Now they do look up, but only to unfurl a hand in the direction of the door. "Oh, is he?" Matt sounds--not shocked, exactly, and certainly not elated, but perhaps just a bit intrigued. The tick of his eyes up over Mirror's head not very much unlike his tell when actually running through a sequence in chess. Or when he wishes to appear as though he is doing so. "He is quite the law unto himself. I should certainly not expect death to keep him off the board. Well!" He flashes a winning smile. "Of course" I think you have what it takes. As does my mother, in her own arena, but she does bore so easily, and it is altogether more efficient if she has ripe targets, no?" He drains his tea and pushes himself up out of the seat, his smile never fading. "Do let me know if you'll write the piece." --- 1 june. hfc sanctum. "I'll look into it," says Winona as she adds some notes on her phone. She presently wears an N95 mask (explained as just being overcautious after feeling a tickle in her throat) so her expression can only be discerned by the knit of her eyebrows. "I should be able to dig up additional sources." She hesitates, glancing up from her screen towards Matt. "I'll also check in with Lucien. He surely has other thoughts on how I can approach the problem." Matt is draped sidewise in his chair with a tablet propped against one leg. "Thank you kindly, you are ever so diligent. Please do keep me posted." At the mention of his brother, he draws in a sharp breath, his hand lifting to his mouth. "Oh, goodness. Is he still coming in? I tried talking to him the other night, but he is such a workaholic." He doesn't sit upright, but does make an overture in that direction. "I think it best not to indulge that tendency right now. He's been through so very much, and he's quite unstable, still." Winona's jaw sets, though the tension in her expression is mostly masked. "Mm. I don't doubt that he's troubled by recent events," she agrees carefully, "Maybe I'll speak to him about your suggestion that he take a vacation away from all this." She slips her phone back into her jacket pocket, "You'll be hearing back from me soon. Make sure you stay on top of your internal mail. I know sometimes it's hard to keep up with all the peculiarities of this little club, especially with little experience." --- 10 june. la lyre d'or. "Can that be Lucien Tessier?" Who is this, sidling up to Luci at his booth with an old-fashioned? A moment ago, even chatting quietly with some of the hotel guests, his understated (yet elegant) (yet practical) garb might have marked him one of the staff, but Luci never hired this man. In any case the man is extending one hand for a shake, giving Luci an effusive smile that nevertheless doesn't reach his dark, curious eyes. "David Smith," he introduces himself, "I'm a big fan. Not just the musical, of course, but what you've done to this place --" he tilts his hand out to indicate their surroundings, eyes straying from Luci to dart with incongruous speed around the room. They fix back on Luci with that same bright, unsmiling interest. "Well, I'd been hoping to make your acquaintance much sooner, but of course life gets in the way," he says. "Do I take it you're back in town to stay?" Lucien's eyes have lifted swiftly from the tablet he has been working on, where he's tucked into this booth. Kind of reflexive his expression has rearranged itself into a gentle politeness -- in contrast to David's this is fairly unsmiling around his lips but a touch warmer in his vivid eyes. He's taking the offered handshake -- in a firm-but-not-too-firm kind of pressure, brevity, slight tip of his head together with his warm repetition of David as if this is a hard name to remember, that all suggest this is a person who has spent far too long reading about what makes a Perfect Professional Handshake. "Things -- have been quite busy, as you say, but at least our paths have crossed now. Was there something I could help you with in particular?" Here, now, his mouth does quirk up, just a touch at one corner. "I do hope I will be, my to-do list got no shorter for the time away." David laughs lightly, in the manner of one who merely thinks this is an appropriate moment to laugh lightly rather than one who is amused by something, switching his glass over to his other hand, the garnishing stir stick tucked against his index finger. "Ah, I can only imagine," he says, shaking his head. "I have kept quite afloat, thank you! If you need any assistance catching up, I'm sure you need only ask, everyone here has been such a peach. I'm quite impressed by this little court so far. We didn't work this hard in San Francisco!" He laughs again, runs one hand over his neatly gelled hair; as he is taking his leave, he raises the glass in a faintly conciliatory salute. --- 20 june. hfc sanctum. "Of course I think Matt is more than capable," Daiki qualifies firmly before venturing on to, "he just hasn't been around as long." He timed this conversation with decanting the very excellent gyokuro tea now filling the Sanctum. "Two bishops are better than one, especially if they work well together. Maybe Matt can get him to delegate more." His lips compress, but his even tone does not change. "Or delegate at all. I really do think the work helps him. But it would help everyone if we saw at least some of those bigger pictures he's always working on." He sets the white porcelain teacup down in front of Elie with a bow. "It can't hurt to give it a try." "I just don't see what he can do that Matthieu cannot." Elie's long-suffering lament here suggests that the very idea her secondborn might be competent is an affront to her personally. "I am beginning to think you got by with one bishop despite and not because of Lucien. Without him, you could trade up and leave room for promotion." The tea does seem to mollify her, and slight lift of her brows makes her vivid eyes twinkle with intensity. "God only knows what else he's been keeping from you, but what incensed me most was finding out he knew who ran Prometheus and didn't see fit to tell any of you who have actually suffered its horrors." She lowers her voice. "This, at least, I had rather keep from Matthieu, lest his brother's double-dealing break his heart again. The monster behind Prometheus, who Lucien has been protecting from his just deserts is none other than Rasheed Toure..." --- 25 june. wendy's apartment. "You have to admit, it is all a little fishy." Wendy isn't drunk (yet), not even close, but she's stocked enough wine with this meal that it's clear she is probably planning to be drunk later. That's later, though; right now she's very sober in more than one sense, her expression crinkled into a deeply contemplative frown that is at the moment leveled at the elegant candle jar (bearing L'Entente's monogram and signature fragrance) on her dining table. "It's been how long and Toure is doing better now than last year, even. I don't know," she's quick to hedge, "if it's really all as malicious as Ms. Tessier thinks, but -- he's been dealing with a lot. It'd be a lot of strain for anyone and he's not as superhuman as he pretends. I think a change on the board could be better for all of us." Winona's own wine consumption has been matching pace with Wendy's, and she swirls the remnants of one such glass before draining these. "I'm not crazy about Toure's ability to breath easy. Or at all," she says, her own expression troubled, eyebrows slightly pinched. "He's not superhuman, for sure. For sure. I get the impression that it's entirely not a Tessier thing to talk frankly about how or what they're doing... but I think it'd be a mistake. A grave mistake to disrupt his work now." She puts her hand on her chest, and speaks with firmness, "He needs support, and I intend to help support him." The scrunch of Wendy's face is deepening. "This feels like it could all blow up." She's looking at something imperceptible just past Winona, but shakes her head and dismisses it. She tosses back the last of her wine, too, and refills Winona's glass and then her own. "I just hope you know what you're doing." --- 28 june. smoke and mirrors. "You were gone. Playing possum, if I'm remembering right. You can't possibly have thought Court business would just have -- what, ground to a halt in your absence?" Who is Mirror, right now, in this dark-skinned and chubby form it's certainly not a face Lucien recognizes, but their languid drape in the booth and smug familiarity is recognizable enough. They've just swiped a wedge of pita through a plate of spice-swirled hummus and are chewing on it now thoughtfully. Swallowing, licking off a fingertip. "Admittedly, after all -- you know -- it was hardly a surprise you were just pulling a Tessier, but presuming it seemed a little -- presumptuous." Lucien certainly looks dressed the perfect blend of classy and comfortable to be spending an evening lounging in here. He has not been touching any of the delicious small plates set on the table, though, nor any of the sweet-spiced shisha on offer. His hands have been folded tight in front of him, his lips compressing. "Please. Presumptuous would be me pretending you had no idea that --" His mouth closes again, and for just a second he does not breathe. There's a small meaningless twitch at the corner of his mouth, and he pushes himself to his feet. "Whatever you may think, I am glad business continued running smoothly. I only have concerns that perhaps some procedure --" "Procedure?" Mirror does not bother to keep the laughter out of their voice. "Is that a thing you care about, now?" They are drawing a slow pull from their hookah, and as Lucien gets up to go, their words come in a cloud of creamy cherry-caramel-chocolate smoke. "Maybe you should run your concerns by Emma, mm? Procedure, after all. I'm sure it'll clear a few things up." --- 1 july. le carrefour. It is early -- probably downstairs there is a morning rush in the cafe, but it's quiet up here. Lucien is tucked, with a tray of tea, at a small table in a quiet corner of the conservatory. His phone is out -- though for once he's not attached to it, screen off, though the look he is giving it suggests he's thinking very hard about checking his messages again. He doesn't, interrupted by Flèche's head on his knee -- probably, he's always happy to be petting the dog, but he does seem a little extra relieved for the interruption just at this moment. Was a little interruption welcome? Lucien is about to get more relief than he bargained for. Daiki appears around a bend in the path and hesitates briefly before approaching. He bows deeply -- though not as deeply as usual -- and does not sit. "I've always looked up to you," he says softly. "I just wish you'd trusted me more. Emma never knew how capable I was, but you did." He smiles, small and tight. "Maybe that's why you didn't trust me, or any of us. There's irony in cultivating competent people and then keeping them in the dark because they're too competent. But we have a new Bishop now, one who actually understands teamwork. A new Queen, too." His smile relaxes fractionally, and he bows again before turning to go. "I just thought you deserved the courtesy of a notice." Much to Flèche's dismay, Lucien leaves off petting her when company draws near. He looks up slowly, expression very carefully neutral while Daiki speaks, and through this all he says not a word. There is the barest upward twitch of an eyebrow at courtesy, but it soon smooths back into blankness. He stays silent until the younger man has headed back off, and then he is meticulously rearranging the items on his table, pushing his tea things to the side to leave him space to continue with his morning's checklist -- next up a card in need of addressing, in careful and elegant calligraphy. He is drawing a sharp-nibbed pen from its case as he finally drops his gaze, mouth twitching slightly thin, and it is the patient dog who he addresses now, soft and wry: "Irony."