ArchivedLogs:Love and War
| Love and War | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2016-01-25 "Count me in." |
| Location
<NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village | |
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. The day is gloriously sunny, and brighter still for the snow still lying thick over the city, reflecting the light back up in every direction to somewhat blinding effect. Matt is not out enjoying it, however. Though earlier he ventured out for some shoveling, of late he's just been sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy green blanket and binging Steven Universe. And crying, judging by the wastebasket he's pulled over within easy reach. Not at the moment, though. He's just hugging a corner of the blanket and gazing raptly at Ruby and Sapphire as they tentatively dance for the first time. Into this cheerful scene comes -- well, not a Flicker. Yet. Just a text from Flicker.
Matt stirs, digging around under the blanket for his phone as it chimes (some kind of USS Enterprise-D computer noise) while stretching out a toe to tap the spacebar on his laptop, pausing the playback just as Garnet comes into being. He reads the message and rights himself on the couch, unraveling the snarl of blanket as he swipes out:
There's no answer from Flicker, but it doesn't take long before it's easy for Matt to /feel/ him. Readily identifiable in the quicktwitch firing of his movement. Jumping closer-closer-closer and then, abruptly, /there/ -- well, and then not there again; there's only a brief blur before he's vanished to tuck shoes into the closet and hang coat up as well. Then back. Slotting himself neatly down onto the couch like he belongs there. Tucktuck, blankets, a little bit compulsively straightening them around Matt. Arm snaking around the other man in a hug. "Oh, man, no. There are /so/ many tears every time we play this one." He's eying the screen; even in still-frame recognition puts a quick smile on his face. Matt had just about extricated himself from the blanket by the time Flicker arrives. Under it he wears a forest green t-shirt, the front almost completely occupied by a paler green snake (gazing at an oblivious songbird) whose tortuous coils look /almost/ like cursive letters. He submits to being tucked back in, though, and leans gratefully into the embrace. "Yeah, I was bawling earlier. I'm not sure why I do this to myself." A beat later, with a faint, mischievous smile. "You want to join? We can make some cocoa..." He pulls back slightly to study Flicker. "I've missed you. "How are you doing?" Flicker squeezes Matt closer, arm dropping to his lap when the other man pulls back. "Well. Unemployment's done wonders for my AP, so there's that." He turns to face Matt, perching himself up on the arm of the couch, socked feet wriggling to tuck toes under the edge of the blanket. He's warmly dressed, thick corduroys and a very (very) soft fuzzy black and blue sweater over top of a polo, hair a little flat from a day of Too Much Hat. "Cocoa I love. But Jax is cooking up a massive pot back home. /You/ can come have some of /that/. I came here," he admits cheerfully, "with ulterior motives." Matt's hands scrunching down on the blanket in his lap like a cat kneading at its bedding. "Jax's cocoa is /way/ better than mine," he muses softly, staring at the frozen image on his laptop screen. Then looks up at Flicker, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, "Does your ulterior motive involve kidnapping me and making me consume delicious cocoa whilst being showered with affection by my friends?" Flicker lifts his arm -- the mechanical one, today it gleams in layers of blues and whites, frosted in icy striation that resembles the jagged underside of an iceberg. His hand seesaws back and forth. "Kidnapping, yes. Cocoa, yes. Showering -- definitely." He's moved off the arm of the couch again -- if only to take up a perch on the /back/ of the couch. On the /other/ side of Matt, now, bouncing over there like he's been sitting there the whole time, gesturing out towards the window. The snowy city outside. "-- I mean, /I'll/ shower you with /all/ the hugs if you come fight for us. Have you seen it out there, it's going /down/ at the Commons today, man, we're going to need you on our side. Horus is marshaling the troops, things are going to get bloody. Snow first. Affection after." "Oh, I see..." Matt nods sagely. He turns to follow Flicker quite automatically, sensing where his friend has blinked to without needing to look around for him. "Well. If you think you can buy my terrifying combat prowess with a promise of hugs..." His game face cracks here into a boyish smile. "...you're absolutely right. As long as someone else doesn't /outbid/ you. I mean, if /Taylor/ shows up offering hugs, you might be out of luck." Though, frowning, he considers this for a moment. "Actually, if Taylor showed up to this fight, we might /all/ be out of luck anyway." He rolls up onto his knees and looks out the window at the bright, bright snowscape only marred by the gray, slushy street. "Count me in." "Oh, good. If that didn't work my next bribe was going to be cookies but I don't know what team Jax is playing for." Another flit-shift of motion has Flicker back down where he started. Tucked in on the couch on Matt's other side, arm snaking around him again. "Here. It's like a deposit. I have nothing against cheating before anyone else gets a chance to bid." One leg stretches out to rest on the table. "I'd say we can at least finish the episode but I don't know if it really sets that good /war/ mood." "Cookies are great, too, but they're just loose change next to a few good hugs." Matt leans heavily into Flicker, wrapping his own arm around the other man. "Deposit accepted. I'll let you know if anyone bids against you, of course." He looks back at the screen, considering. "This show /in general/ doesn't really set the mood for fighting too well, for all that it deals with violence and war. But that's one of the reasons I love it." His fingers tighten against Flicker's ribs at this, though, and his breath hitches. It's several seconds before he speaks again, and when he does his voice is quiet and rough. "Probably best to leave it unfinished, no?" He stretches out a hand, faintly trembling, to close the laptop. "Dusk's fighting on my team so. We have kind of a trump card in this hug auction." Flicker's hand rubs slow at the outside of Matt's arm, and, show or no show, he doesn't seem in a great rush to get up. Just settles back, pulling the other man closer. "Some other time, maybe. Today, we got you." | |
