Logs:Opening

Opening
Dramatis Personae Matt, Lucien, Fury
In Absentia Elie	2024-05-31 "Tricksters are notoriously difficult to kill, and I hear you nailed Loki." (after the premiere, before going "home" with fury.)
Location <NYC> The Met - Upper East Side
The actual movie showing is through with, plenty of culture reporters gone off to make sure there's plenty of buzz for the film in advance of its wider theatrical release. While the showing itself had been limited to a select lottery of alien attack victims, this afterparty is not. And, while the alien attack itself was a horror nobody had predicted, this movie has been in the works a long time. The opening of the Met's special Vikings exhibition has long been planned to coincide with this Disney release; the attendance of Thor Himself was just a stroke of luck. It's a stroke of luck that has brought even more celebrities shelling out even more money than usual to attend this party, and for a good chunk of the evening Lucien has been very occupied. He's only just managing to slip away from the latest of many small conversations, equal parts congratulations and slightly-too-intrusive questions. He's claimed a glass of water from a circulating waiter and, even though the rest of the museum is technically closed none of the staff seems inclined to stop him as he slips past a velvet rope into an empty adjacent exhibit on the Harlem Renaissance. It's not quite private on the other side but it is, at least, momentarily less mobbed. He's pausing to sip at the water and catch his breath while in the next room his recent company is temporarily distracted by Thor posing next to a silver cup whose ancient engravings look strikingly like him. Matt black suit is plain but exquisitely tailored, its blend of classical, modern, and original styling touches seemingly insignificant individually, but in totality they have a subtle unbalancing effect that, depending on the context, may beguile, or intrigue, or unsettle without being eye-catching at all. His tie and vest are more in his usual style, if less colorful--faintly iridescent black arabesques that match the embossed pattern on his dress boots and the faint flash of his simple moonstone cufflinks. He's drifted into the neighboring exhibit, as well, having also deposited his mother with the small knot forming around Thor. His power does not precede him. He just coasts to a stop at a large, glass-cased group photo of the cast and crew of Shuffle Along in front of the 63rd Street Music Hall. "Bravo," he says, softly, without looking at Lucien. "Twas brillig, even." Lucien's fingers clench tighter around his glass, hand freezing en route to his next sip. His mind has tumbled into a shattered disarray at the first quiet word -- fury and heartbreak, but more than that a jagged and clawing fear. He does not turn towards his brother. The very slight shift of his head throws a sidelong glance to the doorway, to the crowds in the next gallery, to the stretch of space between himself and the rest of the party. He lifts the glass the rest of the way and pulls down a slow swallow of water. "I did not see you on the theater's guest list." "Goodness." Matt's exclamation is almost dramatic in its sheer absence of inflection. "Did you suppose a paltry list would stop Mother, if she cared to come?" He arches a supercilious eyebrow at Lucien sidelong. "{Or me, for that matter. Pray do not be absurd. If I had meant you ill, we would not be having this conversation at all.}" He studies Lucien, then drops his gaze. "{I'll not stop you, if you are so very eager to flee. But given you've not attempted to destroy me a second time, I will show you the same courtesy.}" Lucien can feel Matt's power strain for him--perhaps only out of sheer habit--but he reels it back with a will. "{Did you really get abducted? Or is that a convenient invention of Fury's, given he had aliens with which to sell it, right alongside the Avengers?}" "I did not see you," Lucien says again, extremely determined in the level tone of his voice, "in the theater at all, I --" His voice is not shaking but his hand is, a very brief tremor mostly noticeable in the shiver of the water within it. Lucien lowers his hand, folds his other tight against the glass as well. "{A second time. When did I ever try to destroy you.}" "I was not at the theater, at all," Matt replies, also level. "But I've every confidence the film is delightful and will see it in my own time. Tricksters are notoriously difficult to kill, and I hear you nailed Loki." His power curls into Lucien's, forcibly easing his stress but not--as had been his habit before--extending his range. "{Prometheus. But they made me stronger and I understand, truly. Mother ought to, also, but she is stubborn and cannot think you ever so brilliant. She underestimates you.}" His glance slices aside at his brother. "{I do not.}" There's a small twitch in Lucien's jaw. His eyes are fixed ahead, little though they are actually attending the artwork before him. "I never --" does not even really have enough heat in it to rise to the level of defensive; Lucien just sounds exhausted, and the words falter unfinished. He rotates the water glass slowly between his fingers, and though he glances towards the gallery's exit again, he does not move. "{What exactly do you imagine I plan to do, then.}" "{I imagine,}" Matt says with an incongruous sliver of bright amusement, "{you mean to wreck my opening for a short-sighted positional advantage. Well. You already have done.}" He turns one hand up with an elegant splay of fingers. "{So it goes. You had an unprecedented opportunity and you took it, I cannot in good conscience condemn that.}" He studies Lucien sidelong at that glance toward the exit, his own gaze steady. "{You are a strong player and the bishop a powerful piece, but you forget how dangerous it is to play him without back rank support.}" Even through his artificially imposed calm a shiver of fear ripples through Lucien's mind in answer to that bright amusement. He shifts slightly where he is standing -- not toward Matt but towards a colorful William H. Johnson painting that, incidentally, turns his back a little more toward the crowd in the next gallery. His forefinger taps steadily at the cool side of his drink, though this only introduces a new anxiety into his mind; a moment later he stops this movement, pressing the pad of his finger firm against his glass. "{Opportunity to --}" His voice is still just quiet, but Matt can feel the internal scrambling here, tugging hard at several different verbal pathways in some vain attempt to slot this metaphor into a sensible place. It has clearly not worked -- he's still trying desperately to put together some internal puzzle when he speaks again, but there's a hurt that is winning over his desire to make sense of this. "{Was all that just -- getting me out of the way, then? Just a convenience for whatever you two are planning next?}" Matt's indulgent condescension falls away at the question, and for a moment he looks stricken. "{What--}" He quickly schools his expression to something more like scornful perplexity, though his hushed words are clipped with agitation. "{Don't be absurd. I'd only just then told Mother about your intrigue. We wanted to get to the bottom of your involvement with Prometheus. Find out who you were really protecting.}" He swallows, his power tightening on Lucien's without really changing anything further. "{Still are, in all likelihood.}" He sidles up next to his brother, bright green eyes searching the bold brushstrokes in front of them. "{Mother doesn't think you competent to foil the ambitions she's developed since, but given they're woefully pedestrian I can't see why you'd bother other than to spite her.}" He takes a slow breath that shivers from him not wholly unlike laughter--but not very much like it, either. "{Which does have a certain appeal. Perhaps my game is also beneath your regard, between the superhero cultivation and interplanetary diplomacy.}" His smile is a little fey and a lot rueful. "{It's a pity. We would have made such a team.}" Lucien's breath catches when Matt's power clamps down. He clutches the water closer to his chest, eyes just fractionally wider. It's not until Matt's final words that he actually turns -- a slow pivot on his heel, his gaze fixing on his brother's face. His clumsy internal fumbling for words has stopped -- or at least it's eclipsed now by the hurt and panic that rattles uncomfortable against his artificially imposed calm. There's a photographer in the doorway; almost reflexively Lucien's expression has schooled into a steadier quiet just a moment before the camera click. He starts to lift his water -- lowers it -- starts to lift his hand but then clamps that back against his glass. Director Nicholas J. Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. does not look nearly as intimidating tonight as usual, his black-on-black confined to a classically cut suit that (probably) could not conceal a gun even if he were allowed to carry one on the premises. Nevertheless, he dispatches the offending photographer with a single baleful glare, his expression softening as he approaches the brothers. "Pardon me for intruding, Messrs. Tessier," he says, glancing between them. "I realize y'all got a lot going on tonight, and I hate to pile on any more, but I got a media situation with our divine emissary over there and badly need to consult with Mister Tessier." His face scrunches at the ambiguous nomenclature, though it obviously does not require clarification. "Drinks on me at the after-after party, aight?" Matt brightens at Fury's approach in his habitual way, but there's somehow an edge to this easy casual donning of warmth. "Oh, Director Fury! I've not had the chance to thank you, but this makes two of us you've brought back whom our family had feared lost." He sounds achingly sincere, and looks like he's only just barely holding himself back from throwing his arms around the very much non-hugging Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "Thank you for your service, and you really must stop by for tea some time. I'll not delay you any further, lest we cause an interstellar incident!" He rests a hand gently on Lucien's arm, his enforced calm lifting even more gently. "I hadn't meant to distress you further, darling, and I am so very glad to have you back. I truly am." The smile fades from his face but not his eyes, which linger on his brother even as he turns away with a small incline of his head to Fury and takes his leave.