Logs:Indulgence
| Indulgence | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2022-03-28 "You must remember his secondary mutation is making trouble--I know these things." |
| Location
<PRV> 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. It's early as yet, the house quiet and still and warm against the unseasonable chill outside. Matt has been up for some time and is presently tucked into the breakfast nook with a mostly empty cup of tea, though the kettle is being kept warm on the smallest backburner and the tea things are laid out in readiness. He's in a pale orchid dress shirt, violet satin tie, gray vest, and black slacks, the laptop in front of him open to his work email and a chess match (untimed, unscored, and deep into a complex midgame) on his phone propped up against a hardbound copy of Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Flèche is curled at his feet dozing, eyes squinting open whenever he starts typing or lifts his mug. There's a rattle of keys in the front door to lure Flèche from her half-slumber, a slow trudge of footsteps through. Lucien takes his time shedding his shoes and outerwear and tucking them neatly away; it's a little bit yet before he's visible through the kitchen doorway in jeans and rumpled grey button-down, towing a compact black carry-on case behind him. He's heading towards his room but pauses, hand tightening on the grip of his suitcase. He leaves the suitcase in front of the door to his room, redirects instead to the kitchen to drop heavily down onto the bench beside Matt. One hand rests on the dog's head, his head dropping to Matt's shoulder. Matt rises when Flèche does, though not to frisk about the door with her. He clicks off the nearly invisible flame under the kettle, starts the tea, and fills the creamer. By the time Lucien drags himself and his luggage into view, he's seated again as though he had never moved. "{Welcome home.}" He presses a kiss to the top of his brother's head. Flèche leans against Lucien's leg and keeps pointedly looking between him and her (tragically empty) food bowl. "Heed not her lies, she's eaten. I don't suppose you've had much time for that?" He considers the teapot with a hum easier felt than heard. "Or for sleep." "The airport pickings were slim at dawn," is Lucien's answer to one of these questions; the question of sleep gets only a soft huff. "I'd thought perhaps hobbling around with one functional lung and his arm in a sling might cut down on incidents. More fool, I." "Mm. An unfortunate if understandable oversight. You must remember his secondary mutation is making trouble--I know these things." Matt drapes an arm around Lucien's shoulders. "Twitter is still atwitter about all the senseless violence last night. By the sheer volume of pearl-clutching, you would think Ansel Elgort and Chris Rock died several times each." His tone is cavalier, but when he squeezes down on Lucien's shoulder it's very gentle. "Eggs could be arranged, but you should have some tea, either way." "Would that we were so lucky. -- I do owe a debt of gratitude to Will Smith, really, for taking some of the focus off this escapade." Lucien isn't moving from his slump against Matt's side. His fingers close gently against Flèche's ear, running the silky fur between them. "I suppose Twitter is neglecting to mention that that man hit him first. Sling and all. I don't think he needs to make trouble -- it simply finds him." The mention of tea does rouse him -- slightly -- from his slump. Just enough to reach for Matt's mug and drain the last swallow remaining. "Twitter, and all of mainstream media." Matt says this lightly, but a brief tension runs through him. "Ansel Elgor had it coming regardless, but I guess it makes your job a bit easier if it was at least arguably self-defense. He--Ryan wasn't hurt, was he? He was only just out of the hospital." He decants the mild Dianhong, adding a touch of sugar and milk to both cups. "Fresh tea," he clarifies, setting one in front of Lucien. "Somehow, I doubt the Influencers would be flocking to Ryan's defense even if they knew he hadn't struck first." "More than had it coming. I gather he made an ill-conceived quip about whether or not Jackson had been executed yet when he realized Ryan was attending alone." Lucien struggles upright, reaching to curl both hands around one of the cups. "Ryan said he did not think someone who goes about creeping on teenagers had much standing to be opining on other people's crimes and from there --" He shakes his head, picking up his cup to venture a small sip. "He was not hurt, though I do not think he is well pleased about the entire night. I am -- just glad that it is Monday." Matt rests his elbow on the table and props his head up in one hand. "Goodness, what an astoundingly vile cretin. He ought to count his blessings Ryan wasn't hurt. Long may the Blackguards mob him all the same." He sips his tea, sighing in appreciation. "I am not sure how much of a day off you will actually get, but time enough for a little respite, I hope. A bit to eat, a warm bath, maybe even a nap?" "My inbox is already brimming over; a nap may be out of reach for some time yet." Lucien sinks back heavily in his seat, savoring his next swallow of tea. A slow frown creases his brows as he considers his options. "I have to cook," he finally demurs, "and check in on Ryan. There will be other days for resting." He glances over to the clock on the stove, "-- will you need a ride to work?" "You're exhausted and stressed, and I fear the days for resting will always come after the next crisis. I know you cannot take todday off, but you can take it lighter, no?" Matt manages to unslump himself from the table without looking any less languid. "I heartily approve of you cooking for pleasure, but as for necessity, the delectable backlog in the freezer should do us for the week. If the checking in isn't for PR, might you delegate? Skye or Steve, perhaps, or yours truly if he'll keep until I'm off--and pray don't tell me he means to go back to Federal Plaza already." He peers over the brim of his cup on his next sip, a fey light in his uncanny green eyes. "Mm. I don't need a ride. I would like one, if you've the time and energy. Purely for my indulgence, mind you." "Mmm." Lucien's lips purse, displeased, as his eyes dart towardd the fridge. "Steve will eat half that in one visit." It may be a slight exaggeration. Slight. Still, he's not immediately getting up, only cradling his tea and taking another slow sip. "PR I can do long distance. I just want to make sure he is not falling all to pieces without his Emotional Support Photokinetic around." His fingers press tighter against his cup, shoulders tense before he accedes, "I could delegate." Some of the tension eases from his bulky frame after this, and though he doesn't smile there's a warmth in his blue eyes when they meet Matt's. "Well, then. For the sake of your indulgence, work can wait a short while." | |
