Logs:Of Pups and Presents (Or, An Emotional Reunion)

Of Pups and Presents (Or, An Emotional Reunion)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Lucien, Flèche	2024-06-15 "How did you get such wonderful rakish ears?"
Location <NYC> La Lyre d'Or, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens
Occupying part of what had been the old cathedral's crypt, this bar and lounge is sumptuous in black and gold, a perfect complement to the club next door. The walls are decorated with a wide variety of beautifully crafted musical instruments from around the world, and rumor has it they are all as functional as the gleaming black grand piano to one side of the stage. The bar itself is a long curve of polished black marble veined with gold, softly lit from below, and the stools surpassingly comfortable. In addition to the round tables arrayed around the stage in the center of the space, there are cozy upholstered booths a half-level up and pairs of armchairs tucked into intimate nooks here and there. On most nights there is live music here in a wide range of genres and styles, and for more crowded shows of a certain caliber, the tables can be cleared away for more space. The club not far away down here is packed, but even with a busy crowd, this lounge feels cozy rather than crowded. Lucien has been tucked into a corner nook, engaged with a good number of drinks and a seemingly intense conversation with a pair of men who from clothes to tattoos to attitudes look very much like they have stepped out of the background of a Yakuza game. His company is, eventually, departing, leaving him to his latest Scotch. He nestles back in his armchair, turning slightly in order to have a better view of the small knots of patrons who've chosen to get up and dance to the jazz quartet playing tonight. The boy now sitting across from Lucien in one of the recently-vacated seats doesn't look anything like a gangster at all, skinny and minimally scarred, in bold marigold button-down, jeans, and leather sandals. He probably isn't old enough to be down here and his current fidgety uncertainty isn't helping him sell himself as any older. One hand is curled into a loose fist in his lap, his other rubbing absently against those knuckles. "You used to be much easier to track down. These days what is your schedule. Nobody knows." Lucien doesn't turn, though his eyes flick to the side. His mouth twitches, slight, at the corner. "I know. That does seem most relevant, non? And you seem to have tracked me down just fine." He swallows a mouthful of Scotch and sets the glass down on a napkin. "You seem somewhat ill at ease. There are quite a many establishments in the neighborhood that will not care about a fake ID, if you would like me to point you to them." "I waited. I'm very patient." Kavalam unclenches his twitchily restless hand and lifts it, extending out to offer the handle of a nylon leash to Lucien. "And it is not me I am worried for them kicking out." It only now becomes apparent that the other end of this leash, just beside his chair, holds an extremely excited black and tan shepherd mutt. It's hard to see how anyone's been ignoring her -- Flèche has been practically flipping in circles in her attempts to break free of the very short leash Kavalam has been holding her on, nearly beside herself as she tries to scramble beneath the table and into Lucien's lap. "Though maybe she can slide in via some nepotism, no?" Lucien does turn, now, at the offered leash. He's looking down in some bemusement at this puzzling present until the other end of it finally breaks into his awareness. "Wh -- how --" His eyes have gone very wide. He's staring over at Kavalam -- but only for a moment, because then he's got a lapful and an armful of dog, and he's far too busy burying his face against her sleek coat to bother worrying about how much fur is getting on his very expensive suit. "{Oh no oh no you're even more precious than I remember. How did you get cuter while I was away? Who's the most perfect pup who ever has pupped, such a stylish coat such a pointy nose -- how did you get such wonderful rakish ears}," he's scruffing at said ears half out of love and half to steeeeer her excited kisses away from his face. It's only after this small litany of praise that he remembers to look back at Kavalam, quietly stunned: "How, they said -- I thought -- how ever did you find her." Kavalam's hands, now freed, are considerably less twitchy without an invisible dog tugtugtugging on them. He rests them on his knees, watching this reunion with a deep satisfaction. "{Please. It was not hard. One very responsible owner she had, you know. Before. Microchipped and all. She turned up not so long after she ran off. I think your mother she told the shelter they did not want her back. K.C. she's gotten very attached, though, no? I think she would have kept this sweet girl for ever but --}" He turns one of his hands up, tipping it out towards Lucien. "{-- thankfully not so necessary. I am very much glad you are back.}" "K.C. Oh, bless her. And bless you, too, my goodness but I've missed this silly girl. Thank you." Lucien is still scruffing at the dog, trying to shift some of the glasses farther back on the table so that between her furiously wagging tail and trailing leash, they do not get knocked over. He's nudging her off his lap so that he can stand up, curling the leash around his knuckles like he's a little afraid she'll rabbit off again if he isn't careful. "{-- Do you work with her at New Leash, then? You seem so familiar -- I apologize, I'm usually quite good with names but it's been a bit of a tumultuous season.}" Kavalam flinches, brief but noticeable. "I --" His hands have curled back tight together, less twitchy now, his fingers pressing at the hollows of his knuckles until his nailbeds go white. His head wobbles side to side in a vague affirmation. "No, not officially, I just -- have become quite close to her. I think it would be shame to lose her family, no?" There's no time for Lucien to answer -- nothing to answer, really; the other armchair is empty, the dog frisking about his ankles the only company he has.