ArchivedLogs:Having The Talk

Having The Talk
Dramatis Personae Gaétan, Lucien, Matt	2017-08-21 "Take a deep breath."
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. It's been a quiet evening -- maybe largely because Gaétan has been over at a friend's, though that's changing now, door opening, shoes kicked off just before he drops to his knees to greet the dog with an enthusiastic scruffing. Despite having just come from Hanging Out his phone is (still) (already) buzzing ceaselessly. He pauses long enough to snap a picture of Flèche for his (now-digital) companions' benefit before continuing on in to flop down onto the couch, phone in one hand and his other only halfheartedly fending off dogkisses. Matt is slumped in his armchair as is his wont, but quite awake and actually reading the book in his lap this time. He's wearing a pale green t-shirt with a huge white sperm whale curled beneath a seven-pointed star and black cargo pants, the soft fuzz of very newly regrown hair stealing the shine from his head. His "{Welcome home}" is warm, but considerably lower in fur and saliva than Flèche's. He sets the empty mug he has been cradling against his side on the coffee table. "{Have you eaten?}" Lucien doesn't bother with such questions. He's roused himself from his seat (curled up with his own tea and laptop by the foot of Matt's chair) as soon as the key turned in the lock; soon enough he returns to the living room with a bowl of peanut noodles and a glass of lemonade, offering these to Gaétan before reclaiming his seat. Laptop closed now, though. "Flèche has, no matter what she tells you." "Oh, yeah," offhandedly, "{Alec's mom made a thing.}" It doesn't stop Gaétan from swiping the food from Lucien, sitting /up/ even to take it. Tuck in hungrily. Now he uses one foot to nudge back the overeager pup. "You kidding, she's never even seen food till now. Poor girl." "It's because she devours it before the sight has time to make it to her eyes." Matt closes his book (/Her Hidden Children/ by Chas Clifton) and sets it aside on arm of the chair. His powers stretch out, a blind but careful questing while remaining half twined with Lucien's as before. "She /seemed/ to approve of the peanut noodles earlier, though." "She would approve of eating dirt if she were convinced it were a thing we enjoyed." Lucien's mild reproachfulness is probably not intended for the dog, continuing as it does: "Those noodles were /intended/ for you." The slant of his glance toward Gaétan is briefly searching -- though after this he gets quickly back to his feet. Scoops up Matt's empty mug and his own, slipping off to the kitchen to refill it. "You could just start swapping Matt's meals out for hers," Gaétan suggests (mouth full of noodles.) "She'd be so happy and he wouldn't notice much difference." The questing reach of Matt's powers doesn't find much -- at first. Though after a moment of probing the touch is met by a quiet stirring -- a blind fumbling that pokes /back/ at Matt, grasping at him with an indefinite aim. "I would /notice/," Matt's objection is also rather mild, "but her food isn't all that bad, really." He closes his eyes, brows gathering slightly. His powers wind around the newer, more tentative one, restraining it and exploring it gently. "Gae..." He sits up a little straighter, regarding his youngest brother steadily. "We need to talk." "Crack some black pepper over it. Give it a kick." Lucien is leaning in the living room doorway as the tea brews, watching his brothers thoughtfully. Gaétan stops slurping at his noodles long enough to gulp down some lemonade, too. Pulling one leg up to tuck it under him, he pats the couch next to himself, inviting Flèche up onto it (while holding his bowl carefully out of reach as she settles.) "You like 7-11 hot dogs, your standards of not all that bad are /seriously/ lacking." He lowers his fork, brows creasing as he looks up. Looks from one brother to the other. The blind /tug/ of his powers struggles harder, abruptly. "Huh?" His eyes narrow -- on Luci. Suspicious, a little sharp: "I thought the treatment went pretty well." "Could use a touch of salt, too." Matt muses philosophically. "And I /happen/ to consider my 'forgiving' sense of taste a boon." He sucks in a quick breath, the hold of his powers tightening. "It did." His voice is gentle now, reassuring. "My latest tests are all clear and my immune system is recovering faster than projected." A small smile quirks the corner of his mouth. "Than the /doctors/ projected, anyway. No, this is about /you./ Do you feel at all unusual, right now? Take a deep breath." Lucien is quick to shake his head, emphatic and firm. "Matt's treatment went as well as could be expected. This is -- not about him." He slips back into the kitchen long enough to decant the tea, returning to set Matt's down in front of him. Settling down comfortably with his own tea, he leans back against the base of the couch, now, fingers curling tight around his mug. One hand, still warmed from the tea, reaches up for Gaétan's. There's no particularly drastic influence that comes with his touch, no alteration of his brother's mood; just a very careful shifting in /awareness/, a subtly keener perception of his own mental processes. The faint sag of Gaétan's shoulders is subtle. Not quite relaxed, but a bit less tense than a moment before. "{Fucking Christ.}" Muttered veeery softly before another gulp of lemonade. His eyes close -- a moment, anyway, before he looks over at Matt. "Huh? No. Why what are you doing?" He pulls in a deep breath -- and shakes his head again. "Kind of weirded out? That's not unusual with you guys." Setting his lemonade down, he slowly reaches for Lucien's hand (cold and a little condensation-clammy in contrast to Luci's warm one), fingers curling around his brother's hand tentatively. Then tighter, as he takes a few deep breaths. The uncertain pull of his powers is straining for Lucien, now. Gaétan's brows crease. "{... are you doing that? It feels strange.}" Matt receives his tea with a murmured "{Thank you}", curling both hands around it. He is quiet for a moment, head tilted slightly in concentration, maintaining his hold on Gaétan's powers while monitoring Lucien's. "I'm afraid this is not about to get any /less/ weird." He watches his brothers closely. "{He's just helping you notice it, and I'm just keeping it...steady. We don't know what, or even /how/, but /you're/ doing that, Gae.}" Lucien is focused, as well. Watching Gaétan, at least internally. His eyes have drifted away to Flèche, nosing with a small whimper at Gaétan's side. "{No. But I am not certain quite what it is you are doing. There are means by which we could explore further but -- not without your input.}" Gaétan's hand clamps down tighter. His breathing stays slow and steady, deep. He twirls noodles slowly around his fork, though he's not actually picking them up. "{But that isn't -- I've been tested, /you/ would know, you --}" His brows furrow deeper, eyes finally lifting to Matt. "{How long have you known?}" His hand clenches tighter at his fork. "{I had a hard time believing at first, too, but the test must have been wrong.}" The shake of Matt's head is minute, his frown perplexed. "{Two weeks; it was right before I went into the hospital last. I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight away--I only caught a glimpse of it and wanted to be more certain of what I felt before putting you through.../this/.}" He gestures somewhat expansively at his brothers. "{But I've not made any headway. It's...elusive.}" "{It's a lot to deal with. We wanted to be sure.}" Slowly, Lucien's quiet augmenting eases off. His grip on Gaétan's hand remains. "{There are options. For figuring this out. Matthieu -- can work with you for the moment, clearly, but.}" His jaw tightens, faintly. "{I suspect if you talked to Joshua as well he would be quite discreet.}" Gaétan doesn't seem in any hurry to let Lucien's hand go, either. His grip is fierce, even if the hard set of his jaw and his narrowed eyes are not particularly welcoming. "But only until he dies, is that what --" He leans slightly against the dog curled up beside him. "{You all have enough. To deal with.}" "I don't intend to die anytime soon," Matt's words are firm and even. "That might still happen, yes, but I will see you through this, however far I can." He draws a deep breath and levers himself with some effort up out of his chair, only to settle the other side of Flèche, smoothing his hand over her side absently. "{You're not some problem to /deal with/, Gaétan. You're /my brother./}"