ArchivedLogs:Coping

Coping
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Melinda, Murphy	2013-07-29 '
Location <NYC> 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. There's a quiet sort of peace to Lucien's house, during the daytime. There is Mahler playing gently from -- all over, really, the sound system here is wired through /most/ rooms of the house though it's hard to /see/ exactly where the speakers have been hidden. Quiet music, though, with the quiet burble of fishtank as backdrop. The smell of chocolate fills the house -- scones, chocolate-chip and orange zest. On the stove, water heats in a kettle, not quite yet boiled. In the previously little-used dining room, Lucien is dressed casually; a grey henley shirt, blue jeans, no shoes. He is tidying, currently, with a hint of a bemused expression to it as he gathers what once was an epic dinosaur/matchbox car /war/ into a box. Drawings are scattered over the dining room table, brightly colourful in a child's inexpert hand. Melinda shows up some time mid morning, though, more precisely exactly mid morning, as she figures it. It's halfway between what might consider the earliest time available to meet and noon, timed to the moment by someone far too concerned by giving the impression of an easy, laid back get together. She glances at the time on her cell phone before raising a hand to ring the door bell, her usual reusable grocery bag filled with fresh baguette and cheeses. She is wearing a denim skirt that hangs trim against her thighs and ends at her knees, and a gauzy, orange, long sleeved shirt over a darker orange tank top. She's wearing sandals, flip flops, and fidgets with a smallish clutch purse under one arm. Her hair is tied back in one long french braid and she boasts makeup for once, powder concealing lightly red rimmed eyes. Lucien answers the door with small toy box still in hand, tucked underneath an arm. His smile is small, but warm, and he leans in as he invites Melinda in to deposit small cheek-to-cheek kisses, once on each side. It comes with a very subtle-faint ripple of calm, soothing. "Melinda. How have you been? It has been too long; forgive me. Life gets at times quite hectic; I am a horribly neglectful friend." "I've had a fair bit on my plate as of late - I am sure you have as well." Melinda's eyes close reflexively at each kiss, a little longer each time, eyes fluttering open slowly after the last. She gives him a slightly warmer smile when he steps back, but the knot inside her still visible in her expression. "I am sorry, too. Things have been chaotic, and instead of just riding it out with the notion of getting back in touch with people when things calm down, things have just gotten worse." She draws in a deep breath and wets her lips. "How are you?" She holds out the bag for Lucien's inspection, then turns to slip out of her shoes in the appropriate section of the entryway. "A fair bit," Lucien agrees, soft and mild. He takes the bag from Melinda, glancing inside it with a small curl of smile. "I --" His eyes drop, to the toybox under his arm. He moves aside to tuck it away beneath a table that stands along one hallway wall. "Fairly busy. Is this chaos personal? The city has seen so much of it it is sometimes hard to know -- exactly /which/ sort of insanity is touching anyone's life this week." "Ah, sometimes." Melinda pads after Lucien quietly, watching as he puts the toybox away. "Sometimes, the chaos in the city leaks into the shop and I have to kick out angry customers for threatening to break things in my restaurant. Other times, the chaos is good and stays out on the streets." She draws in a deep breath, pausing for a moment and studying Lucien. "I heard. I - I'm sorry. I don't know quite what else to say, but I wanted to express my condolences." "Condolences?" Lucien looks, for a moment, genuinely puzzled in the look he gives Melinda. It takes a second longer before something tightens, faintly, in his expression, and he dips his head in acknowledgment. "-- Matt. Ah. Yes, I --" He glances down at the grocery bag, then turns to continue into the kitchen and set out the baguette and cheeses. "Apologies. My --" There's another hesitation, and he lifts a hand to press forefinger and thumb at the hollows of his eyes. "-- Mother died. Last weekend. I have been occasionally getting my condolence wishes -- crossed." He glances towards the stove, a faint trickle of steam starting to leak out of the kettle. "Would you care for some tea?" comes just as quiet-even as before, and following that: "I hope the violence has not touched you /too/ heavily. Have you been well?" "Matt?" Melinda's eyes widen. She follows after him a little faster, her expression darkening with confusion. Then it dawns on her slowly and she straightens up, looking out across living room for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "Tea would be lovely." She turns back to watch him move about the kitchen. "I... uh, was actually offering condolences regarding Nox. She's the shadow lady that was on the news, right? I am sorry if I am assuming too much, but I was worried when I heard, so I came to be sure." "Oh --" This comes out as a startled barely-word, just a soft rush of breath, quick and small. There is a long stretch of silence while Lucien prepares a pair of mugs, slow and methodical in his motions. "My -- apologies again," he murmurs eventually, lower but still mild-calm. "I seem to have been swimming in death, of late." His eyes fix on the steam rising from the kettle. "Nox. Yes. That -- that was Nox. Thank -- you. The news was -- jarring." "No apologies are needed, Lucien. I could not possibly hold it against you when you cannot share terrible news for one reason or another." Melinda moves to hover a little closer in the kitchen, standing near her friend, but mostly spending some time looking at the chocolate orange scones. They do not mind being stared at sadly. "And yes. I can't imagine hearing about something like that so bluntly and impersonal." She leans against the counter and falls silent, her gaze shifting toward the tea cups Lucien has prepared. "I'm here for you, if you need me, especially - does your mother's death give you full custody of your siblings?" "With Matt it was -- painful," Lucien speaks quietly, still, "with my mother it was hectic. With Nox --" This trails off into nothing. "I heard in a taxi. The news was playing on their --" He sketches a square in the air with a forefinger. "Screen. Would you like a scone? They are fresh this morning." The kettle is beginning to whistle. He empties hot water from the teacups, dropping the tea balls in and then reaching his other hand absently for the kettle to pick it up and pour, a very faint frown briefly crossing his brows as his hand closes around the handle. "Not -- automatically, no. They are in my custody for now, though, pending a proper hearing. I do not /imagine/ custody will be denied, but there is much bureaucracy to get through before that point." "I am glad they are here now. If you want me to watch them at any time, please let me know. I generally can figure something out during the evenings." Melinda returns to her point once Lucien has confirmed the siblings' whereabouts. She nods emphatically, but only twice to the question of scones, moving to fetch two plates for the purpose of acquiring said scones. When she turns around, she watches him pour, glancing from his hand to his face and then back to his hand once more, her lips pursing. "Or, if you just want me to come over and make breakfast really early in the morning. Or if you feel like bringing the kids - or well anyone by the cafe. It'll be my treat." "Goodness -- yes. I imagine I will be only too grateful for any and all offers of childcare in the near future, my schedule has been -- it has been tricky." Lucien pours one cup full, and then the other. He sets the kettle back on the stove afterwards; when he releases it, his hand is shiny-red across his palm and fingers where it was holding the handle. "Thank you. It is a kind offer. It has, I admit, been somewhat overwhelming. I had been fighting for custody but did not expect it any time soon." "Well, hopefully, it will be less of a fight now and more of an act of getting your paperwork in order." Melinda's eyes are trained on his hand for a moment, then they turn toward his face, brow wrinkled in concern. Lips press hard together as she reaches out for his hand. "That... looked hot. Let's run it under some water?" She guides him toward the sink if he is willing. "I can handle child care. I am going to offer my services to Jax and Micah later, too, so maybe the kids will all play together with the robot spider or something." "I believe now it devolves into tedium and paperwork, yes." This admission comes with a slight lip-twitch of almost-smile. "Mmm?" It is followed by confusion; Lucien follows Melinda's eyes to his hand, brow furrowing again. "-- Ah." His voice sounds oddly detached, as he looks at this. "I -- did not. Notice." His frown remains as he is guided to the sink, running cool water over the mild burn. "-- The children do enjoy spending time together. That is -- convenient, at least. Sera has decided she /also/ wants to build robots for a living, though I imagine that will last all of a week." "Well, if they didn't like spending time together, or it was a neutral feeling all around, I am sure I can find activities that they would begrudgingly participate in until the appropriate amount of time has passed. My parents did fostering when I was younger. I got really good at getting kids of all walks of life to pass the time without dramatic issues." Mel speaks quietly, but confidently, as she turns Lucien's hand gently under the cool tap water, her finger tips running along the edge of the mild burn to probe its heat. "I... I think you're going to be okay, just a few minutes more. I might put some ice in a towel later, if it continues to feel hot." Mel's touch is gentle, her insides flushed with concern, but underneath it all is that same messy knot of emotion as when she walked in. "I know a great bakery now. Mutant friendly, and full of delicious treats. I'm sure the kids'll love that." "They will -- certainly love any place where they can fill themselves with sweets." Lucien is still regarding his hand with a somewhat blank look, but eventually he lifts his eyes to Melinda, head shaking once. "It does not feel hot," he says evenly, "-- It does not feel like anything at all." He looks back down to her hand, this time. "You are stressed." It's not a question. "Is there anything /I/ can help untangle?" "You're not... shutting things down inside you so you can cope, are you?" Melinda studies his expression when he remarks on his physical condition, looking him dead in the eyes when he asks the next question. She looks away instantly, inhaling softly and blinking her eyes rapidly to keep from any excess moisture from building up around her lashes. She laughs dryly, the open wound that she's been holding down surfacing briefly. "Oh, not really. I don't think so. Someone's missing. Several someones are missing and until the others can get them back, I... well, I wait. I hate it that this is starting to feel normal." Lucien draws in a slow breath, too, at that question. "I --" His answer trails off; instead, he moves to take the tea balls out of the tea, toss the leaves, rinse them clean. "Milk? Sugar? It is a -- Ceylon." Her answer draws his bright green eyes back to hers. "What passes for normal in this city these days --" His head shakes. "I am sorry. That sounds -- would you like," he offers mildly, "something stronger than tea? Hard liquor may be the best remedy I can provide." "Just sugar." Melinda replies, turning off the tap when Lucien walks away, letting him have control over the sink when he returns to rinse the tea balls. "No, not right now. I appreciate the thought, but I'm afraid if I stop and lose myself in liquor, I won't be able to find a way to get moving again, let alone help in any way with the rescue efforts." She pulls a sleeve up on her forefinger's knuckle and dabs lightly at her eyes, extracting moisture before it's too obvious. "Sorry. I'll be okay in a minute." "Rescue efforts. Are they missing or --" Lucien's lips press together thinly. He retrieves a jar of sugar, stirring a spoonful into Melinda's tea. Both cups are set on saucers on the table, and he returns to her side to rest a hand on her elbow, guiding her towards the table. "You do not need to be okay. It is alright, now and then, not to be." "My roommate, well, we think he's being forced into rehab by his family, which is terrible, but once we figure out where he is, we'll confirm whether or not he actually wants to be there." Melinda is easily lead, moving toward the table and settling down to sit. "But... Jim," she takes another deep breath, to try and stave off tears. "He was in the sewers. Hive says that they took him." She dabs at her cheek now with a sleeve covered hand. "I know I'm not supposed to care any more, since we broke up, but it doesn't just stop like that." "Jim." Lucien's eyes shift towards -- a pot of basil that sits on one of the kitchen windowsills. He moves the two plates of scones to the table and eases down into a seat adjacent to Melinda. His hand extends, turning upward in silent offering. "No, I do not imagine it just -- stops. Took him. Where? They -- will get him back, yes?" "I don't know yet. I'm trying to get a hold of Murphy, hoping he can sniff something out, but he hasn't called me back yet." Melinda slips her hand into Lucien's grasp, squeezing it gently as she leans back in her chair, her gaze lifted. She lets the damp sleeve rest with her other arm in her lap. "It's only been a couple hours. He'll call soon. He has to." "Murphy." This comes out flatter. Lucien's expression evens out into thoughtfulness. "He is very -- dogged. If there is something to be sniffed, I imagine -- that he will sniff it." Lucien's touch is calming, as ever; not a heavy dose but a subtle trickle of warmth. "If not liquor, then at least your tea. You need, perhaps, all the comforts you can get at times like this." Melinda nods and leans forward a bit to pick up her tea, lifting it slowly to her lips and taking a first, cautious sip. Her second sip is a little deeper, once she has a feel for the temperature. "You know, my offer still stands. I will definitely take the kids for a few hours when you need a break," the stressed edge in her words starts to fade as she spends more time holding Lucien's hand, her breathing growing deeper. "Doing stuff is also helpful." "Would you like to -- do stuff?" Lucien's eyebrows raise, questioningly. "Take your mind off the worrying. It is a gorgeous day. I could," he suggests, "pack food. Go -- eat it. In --" His eyes turn towards the ceiling, as though searching for a location there. "There is a delightful sculpture garden in Queens. Unless you prefer indoors. I have been meaning to visit P.S. 1 for some time." Melinda smiles a little nods slowly, setting down her tea cup to study Lucien's expression. "Are you okay doing something? I don't want to push you out into the world if you're not feeling so great yourself." And at that moment, her phone starts to ring. She reaches her free hand out to snag her purse and pull it closer, looking at the caller id. She gives Lucien an apologetic look and answers the phone. "Hello?" Murphy proceeds to growl on the other line: "S'Murphy." "I feel fine," Lucien answers quietly. He reaches his other hand for his tea, when Melinda gets her phone, glancing only briefly at the redness before lifting it. He sips, slow, humming one quiet contented note. His eyes shift back to the phone, dismissing the apologetic look with a brief shake of his head but then watching Melinda curiously. 'Murphy." Melinda is utterly unfazed by the growling she hears on the phone. Instead, she launches into a quick, semi hushed conversation. "God, Murphy." Is that relief? "Murphy, it's Jim. I spoke with Hive this morning. He said that the government took him in that fucking joint task force that went through the sewers.' There's a long pause and she looks back to Lucien as she waits, quiet. On the other end of the line, there's a long pause; Murphy doesn't say anything for a while. When he finally /does/ speak, it's with a tiny tap of his teeth: "Hive know anything else?" There are more words, it's probably easy to tell when Murphy is speaking on the other end, and it's Mel's turn to make a thoughtful pause before saying, "If he does, he didn't tell me. He had his hands and his head full, what with the kids, Jax, and Micah having been attacked as well." Lucien just lifts his eyebrows again. He settles back with his tea, his lips curling up faintly. "Give Murphy my love." It's quiet. Dry. The smile fades. He returns to his tea, and his shameless open eavesdropping. Murphy grunts on the other line. Briefly. "Alright," he says, something slow and growling in his voice. "Alright. I'll see what I can do. Fuckin' /Holland/ was down there? They all alive?" A pause, before: "You holdin' together alright? Didn't know Jim got nabbed. Was gonna go down there and check, but." The conversation continues, Mel turned a little away so as not to be too rude to Lucien. "Yeah. They were down there. Jax was unconscious for days after. I... I'm trying. I'm with Lucien now. This whole thing is just... We have to find him, Murphy. I'm sorry I don't have more information." Murphy pauses, for a moment. When he speaks again, there's something /very/ cautious in his tone: "Lucien. You're with -- mmn. How's he doin'. What with Nox bein' --" He doesn't finish this sentence. "--yeah. I'll find him. Gonna have to have a chat with Hive." She looks back at him when he speaks giving him a slightly shaky smile, her attention divided. "He sends his love." There's a beat and then, "Murphy asks how you are." "My mother just died," Lucien answers levelly, "how does he think I am?" The mention of Jax presses his lips together thinly, a frown creasing his brow. It smoothes out as he takes another drink of tea. Murphy responds, again, with a notable stretch of silence that extends into the sound of Melinda asking that question of her dinner companion. Before: "Be careful 'round him. Lucien." "He says his mother just died, how do you think he is?" Melinda doesn't react per se to what Murphy says, but she does glance in Lucien's direction, eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean by that?" Murphy snorts. Hard. Sharp. If Melinda is listening closely, she may realize there was actually a twist of a /laugh/ in there, just hiding beneath the surface. Before: "--nothin', just. Be careful 'round him. He can be a dangerous son of a bitch. I'll look into Jim. And talk to Hive. Talk to you later, Mel." Now there's a small scowl and an exhalation of displeasure. "Talk to you later, Murphy." And then she hangs up, setting her phone down and staring at it before looking back to Lucien. "I never end a conversation with Murphy feeling better than when I started it." Lucien studies Melinda's glance with an impassive one of his own. "Mmm?" It's curious, lightly questioning. "-- I did, once," he murmurs absently. "But only once. The man does somewhat lack for people skills. Do you think he will help?" comes his first question, and his second: "-- What happened to Jackson and Micah?" "Are you asking if he will succeed or if he will flat out take the case?" Melinda picks up her cup once more and takes a sip, drinking a down the tea more easily now. "Jax and Micah were in the sewers too. I haven't... gotten a hold of them yet. I haven't tried yet, but soon, you know? Hive said the soldiers almost killed them and Jax - who must have been protecting Micah - was out for days. I'm sorry. Stuff's all coming out in a rush now. Murphy will help. He always does when it comes to Jim. And he'll succeed, some how." Lucien answers this with silence. A slow pull of tea, an eventual nod. "I imagine he will," he allows softly. "When those you care about --" He exhales a soft chuff. "-- which I imagine is a short list, for him." His head shakes. "So. Lunch? Sculpture garden?" "Yes, definitely." Melinda settles back in her chair though and peacefully eats her scone and finishes her tea, with purpose. Lunch can wait.