ArchivedLogs:Game-Playing

Game-Playing
Dramatis Personae Doug, Lucien	2013-03-12 Of chess and... other games.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's not quite spring yet but you'd be hard-pressed to tell that from the weather, today, with its high nearing sixty and only a few scattered clouds intermittently dampening the warm sunshine. Lunchtime finds the park busy, as a result; busier still, most likely, because of the large number of schools currently on break. Lucien is here, today, casually dressed in neatly-tailored grey jeans and a green v-neck tee shirt that makes his emerald eyes look even greener. He wears a jacket over top, worn-in black leather, but it's unbuttoned in the warmth. He sits near but not /at/ the chess tables, seated on a bench with a book (/Salt: A World History/) though his attention drifts back to the chess games frequently. There are a few in progress; a young woman and a somewhat older man making their way slowly through a rather close game, a pair of grey-haired old men whose game is going even slower, a good deal more chatting than talking, and another man with black cap and grey beard rather /intent/ on his game against a man much younger, thin and sallow-pale in a wheelchair with a green knit cap pulled down over his head. Their game is going rapidly, a timer hit between each move. The younger man, playing black, is soundly in the lead. Lucien watches the three games thoughtfully in between reading his book. Doug is one of those kids on break, and is also enjoying the park. He's using it for jogging, though, loping along the path in blue rugby shorts and a t-shirt that reads 'SCHS Athletics' in faded letters across the chest. A narrow black band straps his phone/iPod to his bicep, thin cord running up his sleeve and out his collar to the earbuds. He passes the chess tables, giving Lucien a nod as he goes by, but not offering a greeting as he pushes on. Another loop brings him by in a few minutes' time, and he pads to a stop near where Lucien sits with his book. "Hey, Lucien," he says with a wide grin, a bit breathless as he pulls the earbud from his ears to let them dangle from his collar. "You waiting to get in on a game?" Lucien is still looking down at his book when Doug passes by; the first time he does not return the nod, perhaps missing it in his reading, but he looks up when Doug stops nearby. His head inclines, slightly, in greeting rather than affirmation. He glances over back towards the tables. "Do you play?" he asks, quietly. "The competition here can get quite stiff." Doug grabs the hem of his t-shirt, and uses it to wipe his face as he makes a noise that might be affirmative. "I learned a few years ago," he says, his voice lowering as he drops his shirt and twists his back. "Mostly by computer, though. I've played a few games against others, but I'm not really that good." He shrugs, and offers a light grin. "Definitely not park-level." He turns to watch the closest game, studying the board for a long moment. Then he's finding a seat on the bench a comfortable distance from the other man. "How have you been?" The closest game is ending; the skinny young man in the wheelchair hits his timer with the same reflexive quickness, but then just sits, hands folded at the edge of the board. Watching, until the other man tips his king over in concession. The older man starts setting the board back up as the younger one resets the clock. Lucien isn't watching this, his eyes on Doug as the other man lifts his shirt to wipe his face. "I am hardly up to the level of the regulars here, either. It is a good way to improve, though." He closes his book when Doug sits, finger held between the pages. "You are on break, yes? How is that going for you?" Doug quirks an eyebrow at the neat sidestep, and his mouth quirks in a half-grin. "Man. You are skilled at deflecting questions," he says, half-admiringly. "You should think about being a press agent or something." He leans back, throwing his legs out in front of him and studying a faded scar on his knee. "Break is going all right," he says, scrunching his nose briefly. "I guess. I'm heading home this afternoon to spend the weekend at my folks'." He lifts a shoulder. "How have you been?" he repeats. "Warmer than yesterday," Lucien answers, glancing up at the sky. His lips quirk upwards slightly at their corners. "Press agent," he repeats. "I am hardly the type anyone would want representing them. My job pays considerably better than most of them, besides." His eyes stay on Doug a moment longer, and then he shifts away to look back at the nearby chess game. "Do you look forward to that? Is your family a good one to spend time with?" He reaches into a pocket of his jacket, pulling out a receipt to use as bookmark as he closes his book /properly/. "I love my family," Doug says, lifting a shoulder, and following the gaze to the chess match. "We might not agree on everything, but there's love, there. And that makes it good." He studies Lucien's face, narrowing his eyes a bit. "Do you make everyone work for simple answers from you?" he asks, his voice wry. "I gave you the simple answer," Lucien points out, a note of amusement in his voice. It's a tired sort of amusement, though. He looks away from the chess game (the skinny young man is playing black, this time, and has already taken two pieces to his opponent's zero) and back to Doug. "I suppose I make everyone work for the complex ones, though. Less," he admits, "because of trying to be difficult. I just never expect anyone to, ah, work. The simple answers content most people." "So you're warmer than yesterday," Doug says, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I suppose that's as good an answer as any." There's a light tease in his voice, and he watches a pair of nannies go by with their strollers, quirking his lips in amusement at their rapid-fire Portuguese conversation. "I'm pretty sure most people make others work for the complex answers," he offers. "I think most people are content to give the simple answers, and be done with it." He looks at the chess game and back at Lucien. "Do you know that guy?" "I'm not sure that's true," Lucien murmurs, thoughtfully. "Some people -- more people than you might expect -- are perfectly free and open with spilling all kinds of intimate details to near-strangers. I know one of them, yes." He turns away from the game, hooking a leg up beneath himself on the bench as he angles sideways to face Doug. "I have found there is a good large segment of people who want to be heard. They are just waiting to find someone to listen." Doug pinkens at that, and ducks his head. "Touche," he says, grinning when he lifts his chin. "I am certainly guilty of that, aren't I?" He doesn't seem /overly/ embarrassed, but he digs at that faded scar with a fingernail. "I did appreciate it, though," he says, a bit softly. "Talking to you. I can see why your time is..." he presses his lips together, and exhales through them. "...at such a premium. You're kind of easy to talk to." He waggles fingers. "A bit frustrating, sometimes, but not in any way that sticks." His brow furrows, and he rubs at his mouth, frowning. "I'm not sure I'm saying that right, but yeah." The frown is replaced by a grin. "So, thanks again." He glances at the game going on. "Which one of them is your friend?" Lucien's head tips, in quiet acknowledgement. "People are sometimes surprised to find that a large chunk of my clients never actually see me naked." There's amusement here, too, but it's quiet and distant. "When it comes down to it, sex is easy to find. Good companionship can be dearer. Sometimes, having someone to talk to is worth quite a lot. Did it help? Are things any -- clearer?" He glances back towards the game, briefly. "My brother," he corrects absently; it's not /quite/ an answer, but given one of the men is young and the other old enough to be their grandfather it pretty much is. "I've actually heard that before," Doug says. "That it's more about the companionship than it is the actual physicality of it." He grins slyly, his tone lightly teasing. "Though I'm sure there are plenty who are interested in that, too." He shifts his body to mirror Lucien's pose, draping an arm over the bench's back. "It did help clarify things," he says. bobbing his head. "Some other stuff happened, too, that helped me put some stuff into perspective, but talking with you really did help. I probably would have made a complete mess of this other thing, if I hadn't gotten my head around that." At the revelation of the relation, Doug leans out to look at the match again, studying the younger man before offering a smile. "I can see it," he says, shifting his attention back. "I should have guessed." A smile touches Lucien's lips, soft and small, and the way he ducks his head is almost bashful, his eyes lowering. "Oh, there are plenty into the physical as well," he acknowledges. "People have --" He turns a hand upwards. "All kinds of tastes. All kinds of needs." His fingers run against the cover of his book, absently tracing the letters in the title. "He plays a fierce game of chess," he comments of the young man in the wheelchair. "Other stuff?" Doug grins. "Yeah. I figured that. I've got the internet, after all." His eyes dance, and he ducks his head. "I'm still...working that stuff out," he says. "Obviously." He leans back, then, to scratch at his stomach through his t-shirt, eyes flicking over to the chess game. "It seems like it," he says of the sibling's chess prowess. "He'd probably wipe the board with me." Then the question gets a pinkening around the blonde's ears. "Oh, just dumb stuff," he says, his tone a bit chagrined. "I thought someone was interested, and they weren't. I just didn't see it." His tone is pragmatic as he leans forward again. "So, I felt kind of dumb for a day or so, until we got it worked out." He waves a hand, as if brushing away the issue. "Pleasantly, thank goodness." "He does with me, every time," Lucien says, amused rather than bitter about this consistent loss. "Pleasantly. That is always for the best." His head stays downturned, though his eyes lift, looking up at Doug in a slow sweep that takes a while to end on the other man's face. "I feel almost as though I should be wishing you luck," he comments, and there's amusement here too, teasing, if gently so. "It seems like you could use it, perhaps, in your romantic life of late." "It's lack of experience," Doug says with a laugh, although he doesn't say whether it's chess or romance he's speaking of. "I'm sure in time, I'll find my skill level and be comfortable." "In time," Lucien's lips curl upwards, though his head still stays bowed, "you'd be amazed what you can grow comfortable with. Skill comes with practice, though. It helps to have a good partner to practice with." Doug laughs again, tilting his head to the side. "Well, I hope to have such a partner, one day," he says. "I'm sure they will find me an eager student of the game." He closes one eye in a slow, subtle wink in Lucien's direction. "If you hear of any tutors, I'd not say no to introductions." At this Lucien exhales a quiet laugh, and lifts one hand to scuff knuckles against a cheek that is faintly pinker than it was a moment ago. He glances back, towards the chess game. Matt is on his way to winning again, though not as crushingly as his last game. His eyes lower again. "Oh, I know many well equipped to provide such instruction," he murmurs, with a hint of apology: "but in my world such things tend to come at a cost." His hand drops, away from his cheek to rest on his book again. "I suppose that is true of the world at large, too. In most places the costs just disguise themselves." Doug grins. "Hey, at least that transaction is /honest/, and without all the BS attached to the game-playing. 'Should I kiss him?' 'Is he going to kiss me?'" He lifts a shoulder. "At least you know the money you spend is going towards a hopefully guaranteed good time." He leans back, eyes crinkling at Lucien's pinkness, though he doesn't rib him about it. "Although, I'm in no position to pay those kinds of..." he looks around the park, grimacing at the proximity of so many people. "...tuition fees." "Not everyone sees my profession that way," Lucien says regretfully. "But I do like the clarity. Things at work are so much more straightforward than interpersonal interaction often is. People know what I am there for, and they leave happy. -- Most," he adds to Doug, with another brief twitch of smile, "do not come with quite as high a price tag. But it is certainly not a route that appeals to everyone," he is swift to acknowledge. "Besides. There /are/ times in life when the uncertainty is part of the appeal. Not necessarily game-playing so much as discovery. There is less to learn for yourself when it is all just decided on beforehand." "Well, people fail to see the logic of stuff, sometimes," Doug says. "I think it's because America was founded by religious intolerants, at first. We've never been able to shake that prudery." The smile he offers Lucien in return is wan, and lifts at one side. "You're right, though. There is something to be said for discovery, in a relationship. Hell, if all I wanted was just sex, I could just hop on Grindr and have myself a party, free of charge." He lifts a shoulder. "But I'm not really /built/ like that, I guess. Sex is /awesome/, but it'd be even more awesome to have someone around during the not-sex times." "'At first' implies religious intolerants still do not make up a solid majority of those in power." A smile still tugs at Lucien's lips, a note of laughter in his voice. "I suppose it would be -- awesome." He sounds cautious, here, not quite certain of this sentiment. "Forging strong friendships should go far to fill that gap though, no? There are many routes to companionship." "Strong friendships are good," Doug says, sitting up and stretching his back. "But they're not exactly the same, are they? I mean, I've got people that I'm close to, and share stuff with, but it's not the same as being part of that kind of...team. Partnership." He lifts a shoulder. "I probably sound like a big soft romantic or something, but it'd be nice to have good, strong friendships, /and/ someone to come home to at the end of the day." He stands, suddenly, pinkening just a bit. "But, I'm young, and someone has remarked that I am cute and not boring, so I hold out hope that I won't end up a lonely internet hermit." He twists his arm as his phone quacks, looking at the text there. "Oh, hell," he says. "I have to go." He sounds genuinely regretful about this, pouting at Lucien a bit. "I've got to go and get some stuff for my mom before I leave town. It was good talking to you, Lucien," he says, squatting to tug his socks back up. "As always." He stands, jogging in place for a moment. "Next time, maybe I'll have time to meet your brother properly, and you and I can continue discussing...game strategies." He winks, flashing a bright grin before he lifts a hand in a wave and jogs off down the path, whistling brightly. "Perhaps," Lucien allows, but it's uncertain here, too. "But you could come home to a friend just as well." His smile curls, a little wider, though his gaze drops at that last statement. He tips his head in a nod, and watches Doug jog off, getting to his feet afterwards to head over towards the chess game. And kibitz.