ArchivedLogs:Guidelines

Guidelines
Dramatis Personae Micah, Lucien	24 September 2013 '
Location <NYC> Tick-Tock - Greenwich Village
The quiet sound of soft music and softly running water greets the entrants to this tea house, playing from speakers hidden and trickling waterfalls cascading down the rocky fountains by the entryway. The ambiance here is subdued, a quiet escape from the bustle and noise of the city, focused on only one thing: tea. Tea of very good quality. They serve it in over eighty varieties, black and white, green and oolong, rooibos and herbals and mate, flavored and straight up. The seating here comes on cushions or kneeling chairs around low tables, the decorations in earth tones, and the knowledgeable wait staff is always helpful with a recommendation or a snack suggestion to pair with your drink. Behind the long counter along one side is an entire wall of bins of loose-leaf teas, available for purchase by weight. Micah has already settled in at a table and is perusing a menu; a second menu sits at the empty chair across from him. While still somewhat of a novice at the wider world of tea (that is not iced and sugared past most recognition), he at least no longer looks completely overwhelmed at the listings. He is dressed only slightly more put-together than is his usual for after-work wear: a pale green button down with darker green leaf patterns through it worn over a pair of not-too-shabby jeans. His hair is still an unarranged tousle, however. His fingertips trace along the condensation on the outside of a water glass as he reads and waits for Lucien to arrive. Lucien turns up not long after; he looks mostly dark. Black slacks, black dress shirt, polished black shoes, black tie; there's a black jacket held over his shoulder by two fingers curled under its collar. "Micah." His softly accented voice has a touch of warmth in it; it's echoed in the fingers he traces against the back of Micah's neck, dispensing a soft trickle of pleasure as he circles the table to take a seat opposite. His eyes skip over the other man for a moment, as he folds his jacket to rest it beside the pillow that serves as his seat. "Have you been well?" For all his waiting on another person to arrive, Micah is somewhat sneaked-up-on. He startles very slightly at the touch to his neck before his muscles soften and he settles into it, a smile appearing on his face just as suddenly. "Lucien, hi!" Micah hops to his feet to wait politely for his companion to sit before returning to his own cushion-seat. "Quite well, lately, actually," he replies with a tone of very mild surprise. "How are you? And the youngsters?" His fingers tap along the menu indicatively. "I figured I should wait until you got here t'order anythin'." "Out of politeness?" A small smile pulls at Lucien's lips. "Or because you have not quite mastered the menu, yet?" He doesn't look at the menu himself, hands folding atop it. "Actually?" He echoes Micah's last surprised words. "Do you generally expect not to be doing well? That is a somewhat more pessimistic view than I might have expected from you." “A little from Column A, a little from Column B,” Micah admits, his own smile a bit sheepish as a dusting of pink settles across his cheekbones. “I'm good enough at pickin' things for m'self by now, I s'pose. Just not sure my choices could measure up.” He shakes his head at the second question. “I don't expect things t'be goin' poorly? Just... I dunno. Got used to pilin' on more stress an' bad news on a daily basis for awhile. An' things have just been...good, lately. Personally. I mean, there's still all the messes goin' on in the world at large, but.” His shoulders shrug at his somewhat failed word-finding. “Good.” "If you enjoy your choices, that is the only measurement that matters." Lucien reaches for his own water, pulling it closer though he does not drink. He traces a finger against its side, drawing it afterwards in a slow ring around the glass's rim. "I am quite glad to hear that. I doubt the world will ever be shed of its messes. To some degree -- if you are enjoying your own small corner of it, that is the only measure that matters, again. It is hard to do much for the world at large when your own life is in turmoil." “I s'pose so. I don't tend t'get too adventurous pickin' out entirely new ones yet, though. I'm still not so good at predictin' what they'll be like in advance from the descriptions.” Micah's head cants slightly at the ongoing discussion. “I know. It's just hard not t'feel a little...guilty...sayin' it? I'm not sure if that's /quite/ the right word, but... When things are what they are so nearby. I guess it's the closest thing.” He runs the fingers of one hand through his hair. “How have things been for you? Still...the same as before? How's it been with the kids settlin' into school?” Lucien laughs, at this answer, soft and brief. "Guilty. Mmm. For your own happiness. I thought your /partner/ was the Catholic." He curls his fingers around his glass, lifting it now to take a sip. "I would make a terrible Catholic, I have never bothered much with guilt. Being happy yourself seems like the ideal time to improve --" His fingers unfurl towards the windows to the street outside. "The rest of the mess. -- They have an excellent Keemun, if you would care to split a pot. The children are well. Sera has been complaining at me that she wishes to go to Spencer's school. It will probably pass by next week. How are yours?" "Not.../for/ it so much as /talkin'/ about it. An' y'think the Catholics cornered the market on guilt? You ever /met/ a Jewish mother before? S'a blinkin' /artform/." Micah chuckles at this as well. "That one's kinda fruity tastin', right? I usually like the fruity ones," he notes of the tea choice. "An', yeah. I keep tryin' t'do whatever I can. So I guess that makes up for any perceived offenses, at least in part." The mention of Sera's complaint earns a warmer smile. "Aw, poor thing. Has she been makin' friends at her own school? I know it's rough when your friends are in another place an' y'feel like it's /forever/ between gettin' t'see 'em at that age... They're doin' well, too. Findin' as much happy as they can, too, I think." He pauses to sip from his glass. "Actually, needed t'bring that up with you. Nothin' big, just wanted t'see if you'd laid out any rules for Desi in regard t'drinkin'? I had t'give the twins some reminders about both bein' responsible themselves /and/ takin' care of their friends if they're gonna be havin' alcohol at their parties..." "Oh," Lucien answers, lightly amused, "the Jews might have invented it but the Catholics perfected the art. Keemun does have some fruity notes, yes." He sets his glass back down, finger returning to tracing idle circles around the rim. His eyes shift from his menu up to Micah. "She makes friends easily enough, and then their parents tell them they cannot spend time with her." His brows hike upward at the mention of Desi. "Drinking -- ah. Was there -- was she trouble?" “Hm,” Micah replies in a way that...isn't quite argumentative but certainly sounds unconvinced. His head shakes slowly at the news about Sera. “That...is just...ugh. Some adults need t'be shaken by the shoulders pretty firmly from time t'time. An' maybe learn a thing or two from their kids.” A headshake of a completely different variety answers the question of trouble. “Oh, no. Likely not for anyone but her own head. The boys said she'd gotten t'the point of passin' out. Which is...a little against the responsible drinkin' rule /they're/ s'posed t'be followin', at least. There's enough scary comin' at these kids from every angle. Hate t'think about what they can get /themselves/ into without leavin' the house, on top of it, is all.” "Mmm. If I were their parents, I would likely not let my children consort with my family either," Lucien says, drily. He summons a waiter with a lift of his hand, ordering a pot of Keemun for the table and a cup of miso soup. "I imagine weekends like that go some way towards forgetting the scary coming at them." His voice is a bland murmur, his hand rubbing along his jaw and then dropping back to the table. "My apologies. The pair of you have enough to deal with, without -- I shall talk to her." “But she's just a little kid! Ain't like she's got any influence t'even /be/ a bad influence at this point.” Micah presses his lips thin to stop himself from continuing on a tangent that likely needs no further voicing where Lucien is concerned. “Oh, I'm sure it does. That's part of why the guidelines are bein' responsible as opposed t'just /not allowed/ the way most folks do with kids their age. An' no need t'apologise. I'm not lookin' t'cause her trouble. Just wanna make sure somebody's helped her figure out what her limits are an' how t'be safe with that kinda thing. Also, t'check that /you/ are okay with that kinda rule, too. For all I know, you want her stayin' away from that kinda thing completely. Figured it best to check with you.” "She is just a little empath." Lucien's lips twitch slightly with this mild reply. "And very little control, she is little /but/ influence at this point. Even so --" He hands his menu up to the waiter, hand dropping to rest at the edge of the table. "-- I suspect it is not so much /her/ they aim to avoid." His other hand moves to the crook of his arm, fingers resting lightly against the inside of his elbow. "Oh, there are many things I would like for her to avoid completely. It is unlikely to happen, though. Abstinence never quite worked out for --" His fingers tighten against his arm. "-- How is that responsibility policy working out for your boys?" he finishes, instead. “Even so. Could at least let 'em be friends /at/ school. No scary family members t'worry about there. Ain't no kinda okay t'isolate a kid for the perceived failings of her family.” Micah also passes over his menu with a little nod of thanks. “Semi-decently? At least, they haven't gotten themselves into too much trouble that I know of. An' they're doin' this stuff at /home/ instead of out somewhere. Just...think maybe they needed some firmin' up of the rules. Like...their sober adult chaperone needs t'actually be aware they're chaperonin'. An'...have half a clue about what responsible drinkin' /looks/ like instead of just trickin' their Mormon neighbour into comin' over.” He rolls his eyes at this last part. “An' also t'make sure that their friends are taken care of under the same guidelines they are. Just...stayin' within everyone's limits, supervised, no drivin' or sendin' people off under the influence, an' so forth. It gives 'em a lot of leeway t'actually do what they want.” The mention of tricking Flicker into pseudo-chaperoning earns a soft laugh from Lucien, his head shaking. "They've had Ryan as a -- /chaperone/ before, I am not honestly sure which of the two of those is worse." He studies Micah's face for a moment, thoughtful. "You and Jackson. Both had good parents, non?" Though he doesn't really wait for an answer before following this up with, "You seem to do so well yourselves, with -- what you have available." "See, this is why /sober/ was added as a qualifier for chaperones. Because, yeah. Ryan." Micah giggles at the idea, himself. "Both got intact parental unit sets that mostly seem t'have their kids' best interests at heart, yeah. Lucky that way. Don't happen all that often." He chews at his bottom lip, figuring what Lucien is getting at with that question. "Y'don't have t'have ideal parents yourself t'be a good one, though. Otherwise, there'd be hardly any hope for anybody. You...figure out what y'can, have the kids' best interests at heart, love 'em an' show 'em as much, an' ask for /all kinds of help/. All the time. Seems t'be the general recipe, with lots of ways t'improvise on it." This thought earns another laugh from Lucien, brief and quiet; there's amusement in his eyes as he looks across the table at Micah. "I am not sure there is ever much hope for anyone, regardless."