ArchivedLogs:Hugs And Puppies

Hugs And Puppies
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Micah, Maya
In Absentia	28 January 2014 Puppycuddles! (Takes place directly after Lucien works on Hive and directly before Maya runs into Noah.)
Location <NYC> East Village
Historically a center of counterculture, the East Village has a character all its own. Home to artists and musicians of many colours, this neighborhood is known for its punk vibe and artistic sensibilities. The birthplace of many protests, literary movements, it is home to a rather diverse community and vibrant nightlife. It's been frigid all day and by the time it nears midnight it's dropped right down to bitter. Lucien is dressed warmly against it, thick wool peacoat, leather cap and gloves, scarf wound around and around and tucked down into his coat -- his shoulders still hunch up in bracing as he pushes open the door to the Village Lofts, body turning against the wind and the tremor that was already in his broad-shouldered form worsening. He holds the door open for his companion, though. He doesn't exactly look like he's on the verge of toppling over, but he does look /tired/, a droop to his shoulders, a drag to his steps. He is reaching into his pockets for a slim silver cigarette case. "-- Do you mind?" he asks Micah mildly, hands slightly trembly as he taps out one of the slim black kreteks inside. Micah is dressed less like it's bitter cold and more like he /might/ be going out into the /arctic tundra/. He's wearing a set of forest green fleece ear muffs under the black hood of his Batsignal hoodie with his bright orange Jayne hat crammed on top, oversized candy corn striped scarf wrapped from his nose down to his shoulders, olive green puffy coat protecting his arms and torso, and three pairs of gloves (the outermost fingerless and Wish Bear themed) with his thick jeans and hiking boots. He takes hold of the door himself, not letting Lucien keep it open for very long in light of the trembling. "Don't mind. But if y'wanna smoke on the way, we /definitely/ have t'take your car. Can't do it 'round the supplies in the van." The two men have some incoming /fluff/ on their way. There's one very cheerful Ratri, tailwagging, exuberant on the end of her leash, beelining for Micah as she lopes down the sidewalk; from the slobbery Kong still in her mouth it's likely she's recently been at the dog park over in Tompkins Square. Maya, at the other end of her leash, is bundled up as well, warm boots and both thermal underwear and soft fleecey pants beneath her red-and-black salwar pants, her long purple coat hanging down to mid-thigh. Her hands are mittened, her hat has pom-pomed earflaps, a thick knit scarf wrapped around her neck, and there's muffled laughter from behind it as she is tugged along. "Oh!" Muffled, too. "Micah! Hi! Ratri says hello, too! And hello, Micah-friend. I have no sweets for you today, it is so-very-late. Ratri might have kisses, but they're sure to be full of spit. Apologies, in advance." Ratri is, in fact, dropping her ball on Micah's boot to attempt to nose at his knee. And /find/ a place to kiss. Any place. She's not fussy. "Mmm." Lucien hesitates at this. Apparently /weighing/ his options. He eyes his cigarette case. /Eyes/ the street. Eyes his cigarette case. Eyes the very /noticeable/ tremor in his hand. The slow sharp breath he sucks in through his teeth is noticeable, too. He sticks his cigarette between his lips after a very /long/ deliberation, shutting the case with a /snap/, and, finally, removes his car keys from his pocket to turn them over to Micah. With a scowl. He switches cigarette-case for lighter, in his pocket, taking a few tries before shaking-hands will successfully light the clove cigarette. "I have my doubts as to whether Hive will listen to me on the doctor." It's almost absent, as is the slow roll of his head to tip his gaze upwards towards the third-floor windows. Almost. And then there is dog, and cheerful greetings, and his vivid green eyes are very faintly widening as suddenly newcomers are upon them. He looks down at Ratri. Looks down at Maya. Looks over at Micah with a very faint look of bemusement. "-- Hello." He turns his head aside to exhale his initial puff of smoke politely /away/ from Micah and Maya and Dog. "Friend-of-Micah?" "Oh, Ratri! Hello." Micah reaches down to scritch gloved fingers behind the dog's ears. Which will have to do, unless Ratri wishes to give kisses to fabric. Micah is currently cloth with eyes. He gives the ball a little kick to send it rolling when it is dropped on his foot, far enough for Ratri to give chase but not so far as for her to reach the end of her leash. "And Maya, hello! Oh, honey, I don't expect you t'be carryin' sweets all the time. One random encounter with food is even /better/ than t'be expected. Y'want I should run upstairs an' fetch your container? I actually live here." He gestures back to the building they have just exited. "I have doubts that he will, too, but I can keep pesterin' 'im about it." Micah pockets the keys with a vaguely apologetic look. "Oh, right. Lucien, this is Maya. An' that's Ratri. Obie kinda...introduced us over in the dog park one night." "Ratri." Lucien looks down at the eager dog, but takes a half-step back from /her/ before any /shedding/ can happen on his impeccably /neat/ slacks. He does bend, though, once he has distanced the /fabric/ from her, to rub leather-clad fingers beneath her chin. "And Maya. Hello. I do not live here. Anymore." His other hand puts cigarette back to lips, so that he can take another deep drag. "You should pester. I am not usually so inclined. In some cases, it seems worthwhile. Is she a Bernese? She is lovely. They really do seem like -- the Platonic ideal of /dog/." Maya giggles at Lucien's comment. "/Aren't/ they? Kind of the /doggiest/ dog to ever have dogged. She dogs all over everything. It's great, though, I mean, she'll cover you with fur and slobber but she'll cover you with /love/, too. It's hard to stay down around a Bernese. -- /Oh/, oh /gods/ above Micah how am I /forgetting/ can I give you a hug? The /biggest/ hug I heard about your husband! I'm so glad things are looking up. I pretty much squeed like a teenager when I saw the news." “An' we miss havin' you 'round more often,” Micah concludes when Lucien says he no longer lives there, very lightly and fondly bumping his shoulder against the other man's. “She /is/ pretty doggy. Y'shoulda seen poor Obie tryin' t'keep up with 'is little legs.” Micah's smile broadens enough that it can be sensed even /through/ the wrappings of his scarf. “Oh/gosh/, honey, me, too. Was worried I was gonna crush the life out of 'im with huggin'. Then the /twins/ got hold of 'im an'...it reminded me how little a chance there is of /me/ actually doin' that. But, yes, hugs. Always love hugs. Then I can fetch your container.” He steps forward, arms open wide to invite hugging. "But if you had managed to crush the life out of him with your hugging, what an unexpected end to his story that would have been." Lucien closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall of the building with a small shiver. "Never really did have pets. Though my --" He hesitates with a small press of lips. "Siblings always did want --" He exhales a stream of smoke. "Run and get your Tupperware, then." He has a cigarette to finish. "Never too late," Maya chirrups brightly. "Everyone can always use more love in their lives." Perhaps in /demonstration/, she step-bounces forward, wrapping her arms /tight/ around Micah, a /fierce/ tight hug. One that Ratri tries to get in on, nosing up between them until Maya steps back. "I'm glad I ran into you. I'm glad to see -- or, okay, /hear/, you're not really much but a scarf-monster tonight -- you so bouncy. And meet you, friend-of-Micah. Put a little puppycuddle in your life." “Oh/gosh/, that would've been more /horrible/ than unexpected. I'm not even gonna...think on it.” Micah /shudders/ a little, though the incoming hug from Maya does much to still the shivers. “Thanks, sugar. It's nice t'be less of a mope again. Ain't exactly a mode I'm used t'spendin' much time in.” His arms squeeze in warmly for a moment before releasing. “Lucien,” Micah reiterates as Maya titles the other man, chuckling at mental images of both Lucien and his /house/ interacting with a puppy. “I'll be back in a flash.” With that, he ducks back into the building for Tupperware-fetching. Lucien just settles up against the side of the building. The shaking of his hand grows worse, but calms as he takes slow puffs of his cigarette. His eyes turn up towards the sky, the leather of his glove creaking as his fingers clench inwards. Then, slowly, outwards. Gradually, his hand drops. His fingers move to rest on Ratri's head, scritching behind her ears as his weight settles downwards, lowering so that he can rub more comfortably at the canine's head. "It is sometimes," he agrees softly, "a good thing to have in life."