Logs:No Shame

No Shame
Dramatis Personae Matt, Sera, Flèche
In Absentia	2021-12-26 "Can we give that a try?"
Location <PRV> Tessier Residence, Winter Holiday Edition - Backyard - Greenwich Village
Despite an unseasonably warm month, the tiny well-kept yard has been transformed into a winter wonderland. Glass icicles dangle from the branches of the old oak tree--and of everything else with branches sturdy enough to support them--glittering iridescent in the winter sunlight, or, in its absence, the myriad fairy lights strung along the fences and outlining the house itself. Polished brass bells hang from fence posts and tree trunks, secured with red velvet bows trimmed in gold. Holly shrubs with glossy green leaves and bright red berries in barrel planters have been brought in to so skillfully arranged that one not familiar with the usual garden roster might justly mistake them for permanent fixtures. The roses that are permanent fixtures still bloom, spots of startling color on thorny branches largely bare of leaves. A nativity scene in tastefully carved wood is laid out beside the pond, softly lit at night by warm golden light, while a brilliant blue-white spotlight catches the gleaming facets of the crystal star of Bethlehem hanging above the holy family. It's a while past suppertime, already too chilly for most to consider lounging in the garden, but here Sera is anyway, curled up in the hammock. By no means insensible to the cold, she's bundled up in a soft bulky pastel rainbow gradient sweater, dark boot cut blue jeans, and (new!) plush sky blue house slippers with little wings at the ankles. Even so, her shoulders are gradually hunching in tighter as the temperature drops, though she seems perhaps too absorbed in the backlit screen of the Kindle tucked in the crook of her left arm to pay all that much mind. She's radiating pleasure and bemusement, though only out to a few feet around her, a faint smile written on her face as she reads. Matt, who evidently is insensible to the cold, slips outside in just a black tee with the blue outline of a house, a staircase spiraling deep into the earth below, soft faded blue jeans, no slippers or socks. The dog follows him out and bounds over to snuffle at Sera with the tip of a cold, pointy black nose. However inappropriately dressed, Matt does have the soft sage throw blanket that normally lives on his armchair draped over one arm and a slim black thermos tucked beneath the other. He hesitates when he sees Sera reading, but then continues on toward her. His neurochemical landscape, once close enough for her powers at rest to sense, is mildly dysregulated, though no worse than it's been the last few days, his emotions muted and distant. "I thought you might like this," he says, offering the blanket. "It's getting a touch brisk out here." Sera perks up when Flèche comes to demand attention, her delight spilling a little farther out before she gathers it back in to her baseline range, though she does not bother trying to compress it any further than that. She scratches under the dog's chin and darts a glance at Matt -- then the thermos, then at last the blanket, which she reaches out at a small delay to accept, some combination of surprise and uncertain hope churning between them. "Thank you. I guess it is, a bit." She's trying to sound cavalier about this, though she is shivering ever so faintly as she drapes the blanket over her lap. She does not return her eyes to the page she was on, but doesn't seem to know what more to say, either. Matt waits until Sera has settled the blanket around herself, then offers the thermos, too. "Genmaicha, if that suits you at the moment." There's another small hesitation, a flutter of discomfort odd for how detached it is. "I'm ashamed to say I'm not sure what teas you like best. I can make something else if you prefer." Sera narrows her eyes slightly, though if it is in disapproval rather than mere concentration it does not bleed through into the steady pull of her powers. "You're not ashamed," she says, careful but matter-of-fact, reaching out to accept the thermos, too. "And I like genmaicha fine. Thanks." Matt's lips compress, annoyance sudden and sharp and quickly subsumed in--still not shame, but a delicate compartmentalization that feels vastly different from his innate detachment, ponderous and alien and ever-present. "No. Poor choice of words, but it is of a piece with the overall negligence that I regre--" He shuts his mouth and leans back against the trunk of the oak tree. "--that I will not continue or repeat." His head bows. "And for which I owe you a profound apology." Sera's surprise ripples out, tangled with both joy and anger oddly distant as her powers try to reconcile their respective neurochemical states. "Oh! I -- thank you?" She clutches the edge of the blanket tight and bites her lower lip. "{I'm having a little trouble. Can you do the...}" Her hand makes a squashing gesture. "{Please.}" Matt tenses, but does not dampen Sera's powers until she asks. "{I'm sorry.}" This comes out more firm. "You don't have to forgive me or be my new bestie, but I promise this much: so long as you want to be here, I will help make this a home for you." He swallows. "You might have noticed, I've some work to do for the rest of us, too." Sera breathes a quiet sigh of relief. "Thanks. It's harder for me to control it when I'm. You know. Having too many feels." She reaches down to pet Flèche's head. "I wanted so much for you to like me." Her bright green eyes look just a little brighter and she looks away, blinking. "You treated me like one of your students, and I thought maybe I should be content with that. I wasn't...and I'm still not." She worries at her lower lip. "But I don't know what I am to you, or what I can be to you. It would be awful if you had to force yourself to...to..." Her shoulders curl in tight. "I don't even know what I want from you." Matt's eyes widen slightly. "You shouldn't have to settle for being tolerated. And I can do more than tolerate you." He pulls a chair from the picnic set and settles into it backwards beside the hammock. "The thing is, I have to force myself to feel a lot of things, not just with you. You've probably put that together, and I'll understand if it's uncomfortable to you. I don't have to be anyone you don't want me to be, but I will try to be who you need. Or at least try to help you figure that out." Sera's brows scrunch together, troubled. It's with some apparent reluctance that she finally says, "I don't want you to be him." Her fingers dig into the blanket. "My Matthieu. I miss him so, so much, but you'll never replace him, and I don't want you to." She looks past him to the star glimmering over Bethlehem in miniature. "He was closeted, even from the Resistance. I know he did it all to protect our family, but everyone else..." Her left shoulder give a jerky shrug. "He definitely would have never gone on a Prometheus raid. And you know, it scared me so bad when you went, but I was proud of you, too." Matt has gone very still, his gaze steady, his expression serene. "I don't want to be him," he reassures her evenly. "I think he and I came from very different upbringings, and had to adapt to very different circumstances..." The speeding of his breath would be subtle if the air hadn't gotten cold enough to condense his exhalations. "I'm--glad that you are proud, but I should have made you a part of my decision to go from the start. Should make you a part of a lot of things. Can we give that a try?}" "Kind of seems like that's your decision, not mine." Sera curls in on herself tighter. "But if you want to do that, it would be nice to get your attention sometimes without going to Chess Club meetings, though..." She relaxes visibly -- maybe intentionally -- and pops the lid of the thermos for a careful sip. "I do actually like Chess Club. But as for including me...I guess we'll see?"