Logs:Cold

Cold
Dramatis Personae Gaétan, Matt
In Absentia Lily, Elie	2024-03-16 "{I did not know.}" (followed immediately by confronting Lucien.)
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Upstairs - Greenwich Village
The upper floor of this apartment holds the bedrooms; one master bedroom and three smaller ones. One has been converted to a lounge, couches and more books and a large desk by its window. The other two smaller bedrooms upstairs, in strange departure from the rest of the house's style, seem decorated more with younger occupants in mind. One of them, styled largely in purples and blues, has a pair of twin beds with matching butterfly-patterned bedspreads and a similar fabric for the window curtains; a wealth of stuffed toys is neatly arranged on both. The other is very green, its bedspread green-and-black striped; the walls are covered with a host of movie posters. Between the two bedrooms stands a bathroom, cheerfully decorated with colourful mosaic fish in its tiles. The master bedroom, in contrast to the paler, earthy scheme outside, is warm and rich, decorated in deep reds. The exquisitely crafted furniture is dark, with reddish undertones to the mahogany wood. The king-sized bed is stocked with an overabundance of pillows, and more cushions rest in the windowseat. One wall holds a spacious walk-in closet. A table, low to the ground, sits on a thick rug between the bed and the entrance, the right height for kneeling rather than chairs; the checked pattern carved into its surface marks it as a chessboard, though the pieces are not in evidence. The master bathroom adjoins the bedroom; it is large, done in black marble, with an overly spacious glass-walled shower and a similarly large jacuzzi bathtub. Sera's birthday scavenger hunts have grown more challenging each year, drawing in yet more team members to multiply the teenaged mayhem--which of course Lucien had taken into account while planning the event, belated though it is this time. But the teens have won, the Habs have lost, the gifts exchanged, both supper and cake shared, and the house is quiet once more. In his room now, Matt is slouched slantwise in the windowseat in his pajamas--a white tee with a red filigree heart bracketed with ornate capital As and loose black flannel pants covered with little red hearts. His work computer is open on top of a comically tall stack of history books to one side, and there's and an accordion folder tucked beside him from which he's methodically drawing out papers to mark on the antique lap desk half in his lap and half on a cushion. No part of this setup looks comfortable, but he seems untroubled, singing distracted and tuneless along to "Changeling" piping quietly from his sound system. There's a quiet knock at Matt's bedroom door. There's no telltale signature outside, no biokinetic feedback to tell him which Tessier is waiting outside, but that is probably telling enough in itself. When Gaétan enters he has mostly shed the vestiges of the day's globetrotting hijinx, only one showy and fragrant pink and white plumeria blossom still tucked behind his ear as testament to earlier adventures. He's got his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and nudges the door properly closed when he's inside. He's looking right at the Enormous Stack Of Work Matt is occupied with as he asks a perfunctory, "-- You busy?", already moving to seat himself on Matt's bed before any answer has come. "Busy? Me?" Matt's guileless astonishment borders on affront. "Perish the thought." He tucks the paper he's reading under the lid of the desk and sets it aside along with the folder so he can crook one leg up onto the seat--somehow managing to look even less comfortable than he was before. "It rather sounded as though you all had a good time today, but that Flames game was a lot, so if you need to vent, I'm all ears." He props his chin in his hand. "So, then. What's up?" "With anything important," Gaétan clarifies earnestly, glancing to the paper and then to his brother. His lips twitch slightly to the side at the mention of the scavenger hunt. "Luci is good at orchestrating that kind of insanity." He leans forward to snag the folder, idly plucking one of the papers out to look it over. His brows hike as he reads it, and he's looking very skeptically at the grade atop the paper as he holds it up in amused accusation toward Matt. "{When did you start teaching a creative writing class, I thought this was history?}" His eyes drop back to the folder, one finger flicking light against the accordion creases. "{Did you know that Dawson's sister was going to Lassiter?}" "{Thank gods I don't,}" Matt says breezily. "{I'm lucky if I can get my students to both state a topic and actually write about it.}" He leans forward and squints at the work his brother is holding up. "Alright, that one could pass for experimental fiction. Granted, most experiments..." He sucks in a long breath. "{I did not know.}" His gaze sharpens infinitesimally. "{Why? Have you cause to think I might have known?}" Gaétan has returned the paper to its proper section of folder. He probably isn't quite as interested in the rest of the papers as he appears, but his attention is locked very firmly on the stack he is still riffling through. "{Luci arranged for her posting there.}" "{Did he?}" The only change in Matt's expression is a minute shift toward intrigue, but he does drop his hand and push himself (partly) upright. Maybe the question is rhetorical, because his next question carries no suggestion of challenge or skepticism. "{How do you know this?}" "{Ran into her the other day at the hotel. She told me. I know there's a lot of stuff he doesn't tell us, but that --}" Gaétan glances up again now, studying his brother's expression intently. "{-- everything else aside, how did he even have that kind of pull?}" Matt's eyes tick briefly over to his chess table, then back to his brother. "{He has got some powerful people in his pockets. You've met quite a few of them.}" This sounds blandly matter-of-fact, though something changes in his tone as he continues. "{But I never dreamed he had access to Prometheus.}" His voice has gone very, very even. "{He knew she was at Lassiter, and he just let us walk in there--}" He shuts his mouth tight, but the grinding of his teeth is still audible. "{Did she tell you anything else?}" "{She says she didn't know who I was, but I'm skeptical she knows so many Tessiers that Luci sent her there and it didn't ring a bell after all that time in --}" Gaétan's lips press thin, his eyes dropping back to the paper. "{Testing.}" He's toying idly with the edge of the stack of papers. He swallows hard, his voice not quite as even as his brother's. "{Bet it's a lot easier to get a labrat in there than a shitfuck, too.}" "{And I suppose she didn't know who Mother--}" Matt sits up straight presses a hand to his mouth, not quite stifling a soft cry of dismay. It's a full second before he lowers it, and his voice is soft and shaky, now. "{Mother and I were both dying, and both wound up in Prometheus infirmaries, leaving behind very official death certificates and someone else's ashes.}" He runs a hand through his hair. "{And we can count on one hand those who knew you would be of any interest to Prometheus whatsoever.}" "{He hated her. You know he always has. And you --}" Gaétan shuffles the papers back together neatly and slips them back into the folder. "{-- were dying.}" He sets the folder back down by Matt, and rolls off the bed to thump heavily to his feet. "You know, if he'd told me about the documentary, about all of it, I would have gone. Saved all my friends a lot of --" Now his teeth are clenching together, hard. He shoves his hands back in his pocket. "I'm going home." "Oh, darling..." There's very little warmth in the words themselves, but Matt looks stricken enough to breathe some emotion into them. "{You are so much braver than I am.}" He reaches for Gaétan but then just drops his hand to the folder. "{I ought to have protected you better. I just never imagined you needed to be protected from him.}" Gaétan has no answer for this. Just a slight tensing of his shoulders, his head bowing as he shuffles back out of the room and closes the door very quietly behind himself.