Logs:Regret-of-the-Morning: A Workers' Tale

Regret-of-the-Morning: A Workers' Tale
Dramatis Personae Cyan, Kadar, Lucien
In Absentia Ryan, Steve	2024-12-22 "Goodness, but your handiwork is quite eye-catching." (after a wild night.)
Location <NYC> Crypt - Le Bonne Entente - Astoria - Queens
The crypt is older than the cathedral above, a humble Colonial era church excavated by Catholics worshipping in secret for fear of persecution. What was once the crypt church and its surrounding chambers have been partially renovated. The central lobby ringing the columnar elevator bank is comfortably appointed for those waiting to meet their parties before heading to -- or taking a breather from -- the adjoining lounge and club, a matched set with facing entrances. The other pathways are less trafficked, one of them leading to the extensive catacombs, some parts of which are suitable for tours and photo ops, but they are for the most part closed off in respect for the dead who still rest there. Another is for storage and utilities, off-limits to hotel guests. There is a level below all this, unlisted on the elevator but accessible to a certain exclusive contingent of staff and guests, though there are other hidden entrances from inside and outside the hotel. It would not have taken all that much looking to find out where Kadar is, though some amount of waiting to actually meet with him -- busy, evidently, with a client, somewhere off in the back rooms of the spa. Though there is a spa entrance on the higher floors it is better-trafficked -- perhaps that's why Kadar's chosen the quieter lower levels to meet with Cyan again. In contrast to the other (impeccably groomed, impeccably elegant) hotel workers, today he's... a bit frazzled and a lot rumpled, shirt bearing slept-in wrinkles, dark hair slightly mussed despite his best finger-combing efforts. He also has a large mascot polar bear head tucked beneath one arm when he emerges into this quieter side room where his guest has been directed to wait -- a tiny but comfortable lounge in the lower-lower catacombs; who knows where its off-limits doors lead off to but this waiting room right now looks perfectly innocuous. Small plush couch and beautifully upkept aquarium inset into the wall, framed in a spill of greenery tucked into the wall sconces. "Oh shit," he's saying with a bright grin, "you are real, Iiii had my doubts. What was the damage?" “I need my head back-” Cyan points at the mascot polar bear head, “-or my boss is gonna... make me pay for a new one.” Probably, most likely the old man is going to be disappointed and that’s even worse. Kadar was easy to find once Cyan stopped asking for the “Tall Enthusiastic Hottie” -- a description that seemed to be oddly apt for a lot of people around here -- and instead started adding the word “Viking” into the mix. His search did make him have to interact with a lot more people than usual though, which has made him nervous. Cyan’s back to his usual all-black attire. His hoodie is reaching down to his knees, with black sweat pants underneath, the words “Work It” in reflective print on the side of one of his legs, faded and barely legible. He’s also back to three layers of face-masks, the front-most in a camo-coloured leopard print. On his feet he’s stuffed his sock-covered feet into a pair of slippers with the hotel’s logo on them, as his boots are still missing. Most notably however, is that he’s put his hand in a paper-bag. “Also...” he looks around and leans in, as if he’s expecting someone to be watching them despite it very clearly not being a possibility in the small room. “Like...” again he takes a look around, before he carefully takes his hand out of the bag. “Can you do something about this?” In the middle of his palm there’s an eye. Blinking eerily as it focuses on Kadar. "Oh damn yeah! This is a work thing?" Kadar is turning the polar bear head around to face himself. He's squinting down at it with a new consideration in his eyes -- who knows why he thought Cyan was walking around with it before. "I can't do anything about cranky bosses, glad mine's great. Well. Been great, maybe he's a damn terror if we steal his bear heads." Despite it being a very short distance to Cyan he's managing to put a lope in his step, bounding over to give the polar bear head back. Or, well, deposit it directly back onto Cyan's head. It's only then that he's looking down at the hand, chortling a deep "Oh-ho-ho" belly laugh. "Got so high we woke your whole third eye up. Sure you don't want extra vision, could come in handy." As the polar bear head is plopped down on Cyan’s head -- despite it making him appear taller -- the rest of him seems to shrink a little. “Sorry, don’t mean to be ungrateful or anything-” there’s a half-remember conversation from the night before he can’t entirely get the grasp of, “-‘tis nice to see around corners and stuff, it’s just...” he sighs deeply. “It makes me real motion sick, and I can’t wear gloves without...feeling it...And also,” he lifts his hand so the eye is vertical, “it keeps crying???” The back door does open, now, affording a brief glimpse of the unsurprisingly also-elegant hallway beyond. Lucien -- dressed far more casually than the first time Cyan met him, today in impeccably tailored slim-fit jeans and a green button-down with contrasting yellow-orange paisley lining the cuffs, placket and collar, simple chelsea boots, his woven belt cleverly designed such that it seems to have no buckle or beginning or end -- is slipping quietly inside. His head inclines politely to Cyan-the-Bear. "Busy morning already?" His voice is very mild, his expression impassive -- strikingly, it remains so even as his eyes flick from the bear head to Kadar to -- well. Perhaps that was one extra blink, though he appears otherwise unruffled. "Goodness, but your handiwork is quite eye-catching." "What do you have to be sad about, lil guy, you've been alive one damn day and it's been lit." Kadar is wagging his finger sternly at the eye. He's standing up straighter when Lucien walks in as if fixing his posture will pull attention from his overall state of muss or, well, anything else odd happening in the room. But when Luci speaks he's bursting out laughing again -- he claps the other man heartily on the shoulder, gesturing to him excitedly as he tells Cyan: "See! This guy." He leans a little closer, moving his head one way and then the other to watch the eye follow it. "I could put it up in your head if you want," he offers Cyan brightly. "Shit, you think I gotta check in on -- were we really with -- " These sentences don't finish; he's scratching at his head before he instead declares to Lucien: "This dude can party." The polar bear head tilts to one side as the eye in Cyan’s hand blinks, then starts filling up with tears. “Please, “ Cyan’s voice is barely audible between the masks, the mascot head, and the way Lucien makes him want to hide. “I don’t think my brain is equipped to deal with the additional...perspective...” “Wait, do you also remember..?” he lowers his voice even further, before mouthing as conspicuously as humanly possible “Mister America?” The small blink that Lucien allows when Kadar claps him on the shoulder is not all that distinct, really, from the one he gave upon seeing Cyan's Extra Eye. He weathers the jostling with great fortitude, turning his gaze upon Cyan and nodding once quite seriously. "I did hear tell of a bit of festivity in the lounge, last night. I did not know what parts to chalk up to my guests' fanciful imaginations, but -- I don't suppose either of you were present?" Did he catch Cyan's indiscreet mouthing? He is not giving any further indication. "Aiite, aiite, give it here, I'll take care of it -- I'd offer you an extra, Tessier, but you already seem to have eyes everywhere, man." Kadar is extending his own hand, beckoning for Cyan's. Has he thought about the pitfall in this plan, clearly not. Being grateful for the bear mask hiding his face, Cyan forgets the consequences of being touched, until it’s nearly too late. Suddenly, backing off, he finds himself stumbling, the mascot head throwing his sense of balance off, while looking through his -- very new -- third eye makes his motor skills malfunction. He’s wobbling, on the precipice of falling over, trying very hard to figure out which way to fall would cause the least trouble. Into Lucien -- a very Fancy Rich Person -- whom falling into would be trouble even if Cyan wasn’t a source of hallucinations, or Kadar, the Very Enthusiastic About Drugs Hottie that might welcome it, which might be even worse. Or, third, throwing himself onto the floor. All the while managing to simply quack out the word “Gloves!” "-- goodness, careful, there." Heedless of any potential Consequences, Lucien is quite reflexively stepping in to help Cyan catch his balance, steadying hand moving to bearperson's elbow with a gentle supporting pressure, a gentle nudge as well in the direction of the couch. "I had come down here to tell you that your particular services have been requested up in La Lune but something tells me you might already have had a suspicion. When you are done here perhaps you could attend them -- I was given the impression it's a matter of some urgency." "That was real?!" Kadar is looking to Cyan like they will have better confirmation of this. "Oh damn hopefully they had a good night, too. I might've helped with that." Kadar is not offering help, just watching Cyan's flailing with a small widening of his eyes as he tries to piece more of Last Night together. "Did they say they had, like, the best night. Oh, shit --" He's pulling his phone now out of his pocket to unlock it with a blossoming hope, "-- do you think we got pictures." Only now, he's trailing in the direction Cyan had been topping, or maybe the direction of the couch: "Gloves? Nah I gotta get kinda hands on, dude." Cyan jumps at the gentle nudge on his elbow, crashing down into the couch as the bear head spins to look at Lucien, his normal-human-eyes staring at Lucien in terror, trying to assess if everything’s cool. Of course he has to get hands on, that makes sense, people always got to get hands on, nothing can ever be simple. Cyan’s inner monologue is going wild, as he outwardly is simply a festive polar bear. “Real, yeah, at least, I think so?” He doesn’t take his eyes off Lucien while responding to Kadar. “Do you remember last night? What happens when...” he hesitates, Lucien is being remarkably chill for a person with tailored clothing. “...You give me a high-five? Is that something that’s okay right now?” Fuck, maybe he should just keep his mouth shut, let it all go however it will go, be damned the consequences. But it is so nice to have a place to sleep. Internally he promises himself that this is the last warning he’ll give the Viking. If anything is less than cool, Lucien isn't letting on. His expression betrays not particular alarm at the situation. He does tilt his head small and thoughtful at all the questions, the faint hitch of his brows indicating some amount of curiosity here, himself. "Mmm," he's hedging, quiet and mild, "they did indicate it was a somewhat unforgettable experience." His own hands fold behind his back; he takes a small step backwards, once Cyan is more or less situated on the couch. "Is there," he's asking Kadar, "going to be some difficulty?" "Ohhhh shit, you're right, this is gonna get wild again, isn't it. Well, the rockstar isn't here, maybe it'll be contained --" Kadar, now, is eying Lucien with a touch of uncertainty. "I am kind of on call here but, I mean, this is an emergency, right?" He no longer sounds quite as assured as he was a moment ago. He's wringing his hands absently -- this looks a little bit more distressing than it should, as he squeezes his fingers they are moving in ways quite unnatural, first mooshing all together into something of a paddle-shape before he combs through and re-articulates them; two fingers have switched positions and he's unthinkingly simply twisting them off, around, back into place. "Nnnno, no difficulty -- wheeeen do you have to be at work, again?" There’s a short nervous laugh from the Polar Bear, “I got to leave in an hour, it’s less intense the less contact there is.” Lucien is killing him, he can’t tell what the man knows or how he feels about it. “It should be contained, I haven’t had anything like what happened with err-” his voice goes up an octave “-Mr. Black happen before.” "You seem to have left a slew of emergencies in your wake, Mr. Magnússon." Lucien's voice has not swerved from its quiet and neutral tone -- if this is a criticism, a complaint, simply an observation, it's difficult to discern. "I suppose it will be on you to determine the best course for rectifying them." His eyes are gravitating towards Kadar's squishily remolding hand, and he pulls his gaze away from the bizarrely twisting fingers with some difficulty. He is turning to Cyan, the corner of his mouth twitching. There is, at least, a noticeable amusement warming his voice when he speaks again. "Mr. Black can be a heady influence all on his own. In combination --" His hand turns upward, fingers splaying in a somewhat helpless gesture. "Well. I don't think my hotel's reputation for being haunted will get any lessened, after last night." "People love the ambiance though, don't they?" Kadar presses down on his knuckles -- this doesn't crack them so much as invert his hand, briefly; it returns to its proper shape as he presses back at it. He shakes his hand out and transfers his fidgeting to his phone instead. "Okay so if you come upstairs with me," he's saying this like he's trying to work out a logic puzzle, "I can fix up Captain Black before I'm out my damn mind and then you?" He sounds hopeful that this will work. He's looking down at his phone now, eyes wiiiidening as he scrolls through his pictures. "... uh, yeah, your thing's gonna be the, uh, least involved." Oh he knows... Cyan stares at his hand-eye, staring through his hand-eye, staring back at him staring at it, in a highly vertigo-inducing experience, before he manages to bring himself to glance at Lucien. There’s some comfort in knowing that if he wanted to kick Cyan out, he would probably have done so by now. Turning to Kadar he nods along with the plan. “Oh, okay, right, as long as I can get to work without extra limbs we’re good. Oh and yes-“ he pulls out his own phone, twisting it to get a good angle through the broken screen, just to confirm, “-I do have pictures.” "I think people also love leaving the hotel with the same number of body parts they entered." Lucien's determinedly even tone does not waver, even as he steps in towards the others -- just to quickly pluck their phones from their hands, casual and presumptive as if he has every right. After a cursory check he is returning Cyan's phone quickly and entirely untouched -- he's got Kadar's a bit longer, going through and excising photos with prejudice before he returns it as well. It's after this that he gives the others an inclination of his head that is not actually all that deep but manages to have a suggestion of a bow all the same. "I do hope you've been enjoying your stay," he offers mildly to Cyan, and to Kadar "-- and do remember there are extra uniforms, if you've a need." And then, he is slipping away.