ArchivedLogs:Amended Assumptions

Amended Assumptions
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Lucien	Valentine's Day Iolaus makes a very expensive apology.
Location <NYC> Gioiello - Gramercy Park
With a cuisine focused in the heart of the Meditteranean, this restaurant truly is a jewel of New York's dining scene. Its dress code is black tie and its reservations are booked months in advance, but all who come agree that the wait is well worth it. The chef here is praised by gourmands far and wide. The decor matches the high standards of the cuisine; quiet sumptuous elegance to fit the sumptuous palate. For those who can afford its hefty price tag, it is a stop of every foodie's docket. Outside Gioello, chatting quietly with one of the valets, is Iolaus. He smiles as he speaks, gesturing with his hands, though his movements are more suppressed than usual. It might be the midnight black tuxedo hanging off his frame, or the carefully pleated black tie tucked inside it that holds his movements back. It might simply be his mood. "I would have hit them in the face. You're a much better person than I am." he says, smile cracking to reveal a flashing white gleam of teeth. The car pulling up in front of the restaurant /looks/ like it is headed for a valet. A sleek black Aston Martin Vanquish rolls smoothly up to the curb, gleaming in a way that suggests it has been little-used in the recent slush-and-snow-and-salt and suggests, too, it is well taken care of. The man who steps out of it does not gleam, though his well-polished shoes do. Lucien is tuxedo'd as well, in steel grey. Vest. Bowtie. The valet greets him by name, with a smile. Lucien returns the smile, returns the greeting. "Iolaus," is his next greeting, warm. "It is good to see you again. Admittedly, slightly surprising." The valet's use of Lucien's name does not go unnoticed by the expression of surprise on Iolaus' face, but it does go uncommented upon. "Lucien," Iolaus says, extending his hand polietly to the other man. "After our last meeting, I felt an apology fitting the insult was in order." he says, smile small and cautious. Lucien takes the offered hand, clasping it warm and firm. The touch comes with a faint flush of something warm. Happy, contented, a little bit pleasurable, even, though it's a soft subtle trickle of feeling. "More surprising still," he says, softer, and there is perhaps a touch of surprise in his green eyes. "When it comes to those in my profession, most people could not be bothered acknowledging an insult, let alone rectifying it." He does not say this like a sadness, only a simple statement of fact; there's even a small smile on his lips as he looks Iolaus over. Offers his arm, with a gesture towards the door. "Shall we?" He does not hold the door. The doorman does /that/. Iolaus' cheeks glow faintly as well at the admonishment, or from the other man's touch. "Quite right. I have no wish to add to it - quite the contrary, yet I did so." He takes the other man's arm, stepping into the resturant. The maitre'd leads them to a secluded booth near the back of the resturant - not that it matters, much, considering the quiet discussions of its well-dressed inhabitants. "And I am not too small of a man to be unable to admit my own errors." Lucien slips into the booth across from Iolaus, with a polite nod to the maitre'd. "It's quite appreciated, Iolaus," he says, soft, still. "Really. I did not expect --" His eyes lower, to the leatherbound menu in front of him, his fingers resting lightly on its cover. "-- You to care." A smile flits across his face, quick and wry as his gaze lifts back to Iolaus. "Perhaps I am just overly cynical when it comes to people. It's nice to be proved wrong." Iolaus' smile widens and he nods his head, once. "Did you think I was going to invite you here and continue to insult you?" he asks, curiously. "My intention is quite the opposite, but after our last meeting..." the doctor winces as he opens the menu and turns his eyes briefly down to it. "Well... I would not be surprised or insulted if you thought that of me." "The invitation was surprising, in itself. I didn't know what expectations to have when I actually arrived." Lucien opens his menu, too, eyes sweeping down over the page cursorily. "Perhaps I have just had bad experiences recently. I had a man tell me the other day that I should understand his frustrations at people stifling his true potential -- not appreciating what he's really best at -- because I have to deal with solicitation laws." His tone sounds rather amused at this, really, though there's a slight tightness to the edges of his smile. "So. Apology." Perhaps this is expectant. He does look up at Iolaus here, curious and thoughtful. Iolaus tsks as the other man describes his previous altercation, eyes flicking briefly up from his menu to examine his expression. When the other man's eyes fix on him, he nods. "I'm sorry, Lucien. I..." he trails off, cheeks coloring, and he remains silent for several seconds. "I did not choose my words carefully enough, and I made assumptions. Assumptions which, I hope, ..." another pause. "Will be corrected. Are already." he looks the other man straight in the eyes, voice quiet. "What I was trying to say was based on an assumption I did not know then. I was concerned that all of your clients, by the very nature of being clients, meant that they would be more concerned with themselves, or, even, not at all with you, and your needs." His smile is careful, slow, and small. "I know that not to be the case, now." Lucien's eyes meet Iolaus's all this while, and at the end his head inclines slightly in acceptance. "Thank you, Iolaus." For a moment that is all he says, accepting the apology with a slight smile. He goes back to looking over his menu, eventually folding it closed. One hand turns upwards, his fingers uncurling towards Iolaus. "You are a client," he says, lightly, "And invited me here initially out of concern with my feelings. What is it you're concerned with, now?" His hands fold, atop his menu. When Lucien's eyes fall back to his menu, Iolaus turns his attention back to his own. It takes him a little bit longer to find what he is looking for, but shortly after Lucien looks back up, Iolaus closes his menu and does the same. "I am, now. And I am not concerned about much different than I am all the time." he says, his smile warm. "And you? What are your concerns?" "That would only be an answer," Lucien says, amused, "if I knew what your usual concerns are." Iolaus chuckles, eyes falling for a moment to the other man's hand. "Work. How I can keep getting more funds, how I will hire staff, protect my staff, protect /me/, get the licenses..." he trails off, waving his hand. "Lots about work." he chuckles, once. "It seems that most of my life these days is around my work. But, I knew what I was getting into." "It's an easy pattern to fall into. I hear a similar sentiment from many people. And not only the ones whose work is quite so --" Lucien's fingers drum against the cover of his menu. "Risky as yours. Do you enjoy it, at least?" For a moment he quiets, glancing up as the waiter arrives to take their order. "Ah -- the arugula salad, to start, please," he asks, "and the guinea hen after. Thank you." He is looking at the wine menu, now, though doesn't order anything yet, waiting to hear Iolaus's choice first. Iolaus nods his reply, but the waiter interrupts him before he can speak. "Ah. May I have the roasted beet tartare, and the rabbit with pumpkin afterwards?" he says, passing the menu up to the waiter and turning to Lucien with a warm smile. "Perhaps a quartino of the Chardonnay La Castellada, to start?" Lucien suggests, once Iolaus has made his choices. "And the Classico Bellavista -- 93?" He glances to Iolaus for, perhaps, approval of these wine choices, but is already handing both his menus back. "Do you?" he wants to know. "Enjoy it?" Iolaus nods, once, but takes several moments to think before he answers the other man's question. "I do. I don't think I could do this job if I didn't. Too dangerous, too much time." he shakes his head, a few times. "It is consuming, and it is not the most exciting work I have done, but... it is necessary to get towards what will be." He tilts his head to one side, studying Lucien's face. "And you?" "What will be the most exciting work you have done?" Lucien clarifies, his hands folding on the very edge of the table. "Because it certainly sounds it. I mean, it sounds many things. Important. Suicidal." His lips twitch upwards. "But exciting." His head tilts to one side, his eyebrows raising, questioning. "And me?" "The medicine interests me more than the business." Iolaus says, honestly. "The business is just the path to the goal, though it does contain some interest itself." He smiles warmly at Lucien and nods. "Yes, you. What are your concerns right now?" "I've no doubt the medicine will provide excitement of its own. The complications mutations can make in people's lives --" Lucien shakes his head, just slightly. "I hope," he says, with some quiet amusement, "that you are a /good/ doctor." The question earns a moment of consideration before he asks: "My concerns in this moment? Or my concerns in life?" "Very." Iolaus says, with just a hint of a twinkle in his eye and a playful tone in his voice. "Must it only be one or the other? I imagine some of them play into each other." "They do, at that," Lucien acknowledges easily. "Though generally their priority waxes and wanes." When a plate of bread is delivered to their table -- small slices of round toasted bread, though in lieu of olive oil or butter to spread on, there is an entire head of garlic, roasted till the cloves inside are buttery-soft -- he glances up with a small smile of thanks, and takes the butter knife to scoop out a clove and spread it atop a slice. "You're my current concern. I'd prefer if you had a good time. I suppose it's my other concerns that keep me working, in part. My brother. My other siblings." He shrugs a shoulder. Iolaus nods, giving a brief smile to the waiter as he drops off the bread. The doctor waits for Lucien to serve himself before he, too, takes a slice of bread and spreads garlic over it carefully. His eyes sweep over Lucien's face, carefully, head tilting to one side a few degrees. "How is your brother doing?" he asks, voice gentle. There's a long silence that follows this question. Lucien shakes out his napkin, slowly, folding it in half to rest it in his lap. He nibbles at his bread, slowly. He sips at his water, slowly. "There are many ways I could answer that," he says at length, soft to match Iolaus's tone. "My brother is in good spirits. He often is. He is cheerful and warm-hearted and continues to make friends every time he leaves the house." He sets the bread down on his plate, sipping again at his water. "And he is dying. It has not seemed to dampen his cheer, much. Only his energy." Iolaus' lips purse slightly and he nods, once, at this pronouncement. He takes a bite of his bread and chews, slowly, swallowing before he says, "His doctors believe his prognosis is no longer recoverable?" he asks, voice still tempered by that gentleness. "It has been some while since they made a pretense that there was a possibility of recovery," Lucien answers simply. His smile returns, quick and easy for the waiter, with their wine and their appetizers. "Thank you," he murmurs, picking up his fork to spear some arugula and mushrooms. "They do talk about how many months more treatment might buy him," he says, once the waiter has left. "Or they did. It's a trade-off. Whether a few extra months is worth it if he'll have to spend them all in hospitals, and not out enjoying life." Iolaus listens to this with an understanding expression, giving a less quick but equally polite smile to the waiter as his salad is placed in front of him. He picks up a fork and takes a beet to his lips, asking, "Where is he being seen?" before he takes it into his mouth and chews. "And by who?" "Sloan-Kettering," Lucien answers, and gives the name of an oncologist there. "His doctors have been quite good," he assures Iolaus. "Some things are just --" His eyes drop to the plate. He takes another bite. "It's not an easy decision. I'm afraid I influence it more than I should." He smiles after this, though, spearing another bite of salad but not eating it yet. "I can't help but notice your choice of /day/, for this meeting." There's a light teasing note in his tone. "Ah. I know her. We've worked together before," Iolaus says, nodding once. "Once or twice, on a more aggressive form of gene therapy that she needed my help with. She's a good doctor." Iolaus swirls his fork in his food and blushes slightly as he takes a bite, giving himself the time it takes to chew and swallow before he answers. "Ah. I will admit, the date did occur to me to be fitting, though my ability to get a reservation was its primary driver." "I was impressed with the feat. If you'd tried for dinner and not lunch --" Lucien shakes his head, glancing around the still-quite-packed dining room with his amusement continuing. "Well. I had quite a number of people vying for my time today. Most were complaining of the difficulty -- I think most dinner reservations have been booked months past." The blush draws a slight smile from him. "I'm flattered, really. There are so many possible ways to spend today." "It took a favor or two to get even the lunch table, but..." Iolaus smiles and dips his head, once. "I consider it a favor well spent on righting the wrongs that I made. I owe you that much." A brief pause, eyes twinkling as he adds, "And even if you have not, I've enjoyed the time that we've spent together." He chuckles, taking another forkfull of food up to his lips. Lucien's smile widens. He finishes his salad, setting his fork down at the edge of his plate. "What makes you think that I have not?" he wants to know, quietly. "As I said. I had /many/ people requesting my time today." His fingers flick towards Iolaus. "But you are the one I am here with." This causes Iolaus' cheeks to redden further, and he dips his head in acknowledgement. "Well, it is appreciated, Lucien." he says, and his voice is raw with honesty. "I..." he shakes his head once, smiling, and falls silent. Instead, he quickly resumes eating his salad, using it as a rather convenient - and delicious - way to avoid having to finish the sentence he had began. Lucien does not let Iolaus off the hook that easily. He lifts his napkin to dab gently at his lips, but then replaces it. His hand reaches out, fingertips brushing very lightly against one of Iolaus's blushing cheeks. As before, it comes with a faint wash of feeling, warm, pleasurable. "You --?" he prompts, eyebrows raising questioningly. Iolaus was already feeling quite warm already without Lucien's help, thank you very much, nor does he need Lucien's mutation to tug his emotions higher at the other man's fingers brushing against his cheek. His pulse is faster than normal, and his emotions are tangled as well. Excitement, certainly, is present, as is interest in no small amounts, with a healthy dollop of nervousness to complete the sundae of Iolaus' emotions. There is, too, a valiant attempt to crush these emotions underneath the heavy boot of his self-control. "I." he repeats. Lucien is helpful! Or not helpful, as the case may be. His hand drops from Iolaus's cheek to rest over the other man's hand, largely for the purposes of carefully tweaking; a little bit more interest /here/, a little bit less self-control /there/, carefully guiding that cocktail of emotions to be more heated, less restrained. His voice is soft, when he speaks, bright green eyes fixed curiously on Iolaus's face. "You what, Iolaus?" "I honestly wonder if I'm cut out for this, Lucien," Iolaus says, voice a little bit breathy as blue-grey eyes stare into green ones. "If we had not had..." he pauses, frowning for a second at himself. "If /I/ had not insulted you," he tries again, "I don't think I ever would have become a client of yours. It is too... much for me." he says, voice a little bit unsteady. "Too much?" Lucien's hand squeezes lightly at Iolaus's, and then withdraws. There is a pause, as their food is delivered, a second small decanter of rich red wine to replace the white for their appetizers. Lucien thanks the waiter, but studies Iolaus's face throughout. "My apologies. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable. Only for you to enjoy yourself. What part of this discomfits you?" "It is not that, Lucien," Iolaus says, and his hand makes a brief twitch of an attempt to grab Lucien's before it departs, though Iolaus' attempt at self-control wins out enough to keep it - mostly - on the table. "You are not making me uncomfortable. I am just enjoying myself more than I should." he says, softly. "And I know even seeing you like this, once, would make me want to see you again and again, and in contexts wider than, I imagine, clients are supposed to." He fobs a joke out on top, defensively, "And even if it is within the purview, I certainly could not afford it." "Clients see me in many contexts," Lucien murmurs, amused, and though his hand has withdrawn it has not withdrawn /far/, resting on the table close enough to Iolaus's for its warmth to be felt. "More than you should?" He takes a sip of wine, rolling it happily over his tongue, and follows this with a bite of fowl. "Relax. Where things go after this is -- after this. /This/ afternoon, you /should/ be enjoying yourself. I know I am." Iolaus smiles almost shyly at the other man and nods, once, twice, slowly. He looks down and to the side, then up at Lucien and nods again. "Alright." he says, simply. He picks up a fork with the hand farther away from the other man and cuts a piece of the beef off with an edge of the fork. He lifts it to his mouth and chews it, savoring the flavors, swallowing it and chasing it with a small sip of his own wine. The fingers of his other hand, however, are on a very different mission. They slide over to Lucien's hand, each one crawling forward like a soldier underneath barbed wire, until his hand is gently resting on top of Lucien's, his thumb running back and forth along the back of the other man's hand. Lucien smiles. It isn't shy. It's quick and warm and beneath Iolaus's, his hand turns upwards, fingers closing gently around the other man's hand. This time, the pulse of warmth-excitement-pleasure stirs a little more aggressively. Not so much so to be obvious, but it is battering /hard/ at that self-control. Lucien just eats, though, in quiet. Occasionally sips at his wine, savouring the Chianti as much as he had the Chardonnay. "It was an excellent choice of restaurant," he says, at length once his food is largely gone. "Where shall we go after? My place is not far." This suggestion makes Iolaus' pupils dilate and it takes him a moment before can say, "I think you had the wrong idea, Lucien. I made the appointment to apologize. And while I..." he trails off, picking his words carefully. "If I were to go home with you, I would not want you to mistake my intentions. I..." he shakes his head. "Where things go after this." "You have apologized," Lucien answers, quietly amused. "Where would you want things to go, after this?" "Another meeting. A date, perhaps, if you are interested. If not, I am more than willing to keep our association to a mutual interest in books, tea and chess." he adds, quickly. "But if so..." he trails off. Lucien considers this, quiet. "Are you hesitant because you aren't interested," he asks, carefully, "or because you think I wouldn't be, if I weren't getting paid?" His thumb is brushing slow and absent against Iolaus's knuckles. He finishes off his food, with a soft hum of appreciation, and lifts his wine glass. "Or," he says, amusement warming his expression, "are you just old-fashioned?" It /is/ a first date, after all. First apology. "Old fashioned... not quite. In some ways, perhaps, but not in the way you suggest." Iolaus says, softly, looking across the table at the other man. "And there is no lack of interest, believe me. I think I am concerned that you would feel some obligation, or pull, or lack of interest, if it were not the money." He pauses, brows furrowing as he turns his gaze to the side. "But that is not it fully either." His eyes flick back to Lucien's face. "I feel..." he trails off. Want, in barrels. Buckets? "Iolaus, do remember what I told you about how many people I /could/ have chosen to spend today with?" Lucien sips at his wine, his gaze lingering on Iolaus's face. "What is it you feel?" Even if he can feel it, himself. The transferred feelings are putting a slight flush in /his/ cheeks. "Desire." Iolaus says, softly, eyes lighting up at the blush coloring the other man's cheeks. His eyes scan the other man's face, then lock on his eyes. "I want /you/." he says, softly, emphasizing the word as possession flares in him. "But... you. Not just." He purses his lips. "I am very interested, Lucien." he says, voice still soft. Lucien finishes his glass of wine, and his cheek flushes a little darker as he catches the feelings flaring up in Iolaus. "It's all part of me, Iolaus. There's nothing wrong with wanting." Their waiter is returning, with dessert menus in hand. "Can I interest you in our dessert selection?" he is asking, holding the menu open. Lucien, at least, waves his hand away, and the flush of pleasure from his touch deepens. "I had a rather different dessert in mind, thank you." To his credit, the waiter answers this with nothing but a smile. Iolaus does not even notice the waiter. "You don't understand, Lucien." he says, voice darkening slightly, words coming out more impassioned, closer to a hiss, as the possession surges in him. "Not..." Words fail him, but the strong emotions can be read on his face with no mutation at all. The waiter leaves them. With a smile. Lucien watches Iolaus thoughtfully. "Iolaus, I am certainly not going to pressure you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. I just think if it /is/ what you want --" His free hand turns up. "I am more than capable of deciding for myself if /I/ want it, too." Iolaus' smile is hungry. "I'm glad to hear that." he says, then breaks the eye contact to turn and look around the room for the waiter. He gestures to the poor waiter who had just left, making a signature movement in the air with one hand. "Then, I think I will take your advice and see where the night takes us and hope I do not regret the decision later." Lucien squeezes Iolaus's hand, gently. His own hand withdraws. He tops off Iolaus's wine glass, then finishes the small decanter into his own. He lifts the glass to Iolaus with a small smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."