Logs:Sit a Spell

Sit a Spell
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Desi	2019-02-24 Everyday magic.
Location 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. Supper has come and gone by the time Desi arrives home, meeting Flèche's greeting with an enthusiasm that belies the weary slump of her shoulders. Her outfit is perhaps prematurely vernal: a cheerful lavender suede jacket over a seafoam green blouse in petal-like layers, and a long, leaf-green A-line skirt. A slouchy crocheted hat in a blue-green-purple spectrum and a matching scarf are her concessions to the lingering chill. She shucks hat, scarf, and jacket, actually sitting down to wiggle off her tall brown boots. Then just continues sitting in the entryway for a moment, perhaps gathering herself, perhaps paying her tithe of pettings to the dog. Supper may have come and gone for most in the house. Nevertheless, the kitchen light is still turned on low, and the supper sitting on the counter -- chicken parmesan with lemony-garlic broccolini arranged neatly framing it on the plate -- is still hot and fresh. The silverware beside the plate has been ensconced in the pockets of an elegantly folded green cloth napkin, and a pair of candles, one green and one white, burn in simple candlesticks set to either side of the food -- clearly not long lit, from how little they've burned down. A pair of wine glasses has been set out on the counter as well, though at the moment they stand empty. Desi eventually levers herself off the floor, stows her boots, and makes her slow way into the kitchen. A faint smile crosses her face when she sees supper laid out. The dog follows close by, snuffling hopefully in the general direction of the food on the counter. Desi gets a dog biscuit from a ceramic jar by the back door and deposits it in Flèche's food bowl, then washes her hands at the sink, leaning heavily on the edge of the counter. She circles the counter, trailing still-damp fingertips through the flame of the green candle on her way to her stool. There are slow footsteps coming up from the basement. Lucien locks the door behind himself, makes his way into the kitchen, a bottle of Gewürztraminer in hand. For a brief moment as he spies Desi already at the counter, a small crease forms between his brows; it smoothes out as he goes to uncork the bottle. He looks dressed already for bed -- soft loose fleecey black pants, a black tee shirt with an ace of hearts playing card motif. He's quiet as he takes a seat beside Desi, pouring her glass first and then filling his own. Desi's posture straightens subtly when she notices Lucien, though the tight, rueful smile she quirks at him as she settles onto her stool suggests she knows it was too late. She raises her wine glass, taps its rim ever so gently against his and then takes a long, slow sip. Tension gradually eases from her shoulders as she sets the glass back down and methodically unrolls her silverware from the napkin. Flèche, having finished the biscuit, has seated herself primly beside Desi's stool on the pretext of leaning her head against the young woman's leg. For affection, of course, and not any food-related ulterior motive. Lucien tilts his glass toward Desi, clinks it lightly to hers. He takes a small sip, setting his glass down on the counter after. Though he has mostly turned toward the counter, the sidelong cast of his eyes still takes in the shifts of Desi's posture, the gradual easing. He lifts a hand, fingers uncurling to drift slowly first through the smoke coiling up from the green candle and then through the flame itself. Desi makes slow progress on her meal, savoring each bite and watching Lucien play with the flame. She curls the toes of one socked foot to scritch behind Flèche's ear, and the dog seems satisfied even without getting to share in the bounty of chicken. Even at such a leisurely pace, Desi finishes her food before her wine--if not by a very significant margin. Draining her glass, she sighs contently and rests her head against her brother's shoulder. The candle's flame flickers and dances as Lucien's fingers play through it. He hums, quiet, his eyes fixing properly on the fire. By the time Desi has finished eating the candle has burned noticeably lower. Luci's wine is still barely touched. He lowers his hand when her head rests on his shoulder, picking up his glass instead to take a long draught of his wine. The humming fades off as he presses his cheek to the top of her head, a faint smile touching briefly at his lips.