ArchivedLogs:Helicopter Parents
| Helicopter Parents | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2017-06-03 "Am I forgetting anything?" |
| 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 frantic scrabble of claws by the back door, and a moment later a sleek black-and-tan German shepherd mutt comes bounding into the living room, tail thrashing hard and fast. Flèche makes a circuit through the room without slowing down very noticeably. Once she has burned off some of her excitement, she zeroes in--evidently just the nearest available person--to lavish affectionate greetings by way of pawing and licking and soft, solicitous whimpers. "Apologies," Lucien half-rises from his seat when Flèche barrels in, sitting down again without ever fully getting to his feet. "She is a little -- ah. She'll listen if you tell her sit." The voiced command comes with a hand gesture, open palm faced down toward the floor. "Are you sure I can't get you anything? Juice, soda, tea?" Flèche sits down reflexively at the mere mention of the command from Lucien, but only /remains/ sitting for a second before popping back up. Matt strolls in from the kitchen in a somewhat rumpled white dress shirt (no tie, top button undone), a moss green vest, and gray linen trousers. He stoops to pick up a knotted rope toy from a fabric-lined wicker basket under one of the side tables. Flèche zips over to him, jumps up to snatch toy out of his hand, and turns right around to offer it to their guest. "There are also treats in the ceramic jar on the table to your right," he offers, leaning on the back of the sofa. "For her, that is. We /do/ also have people treats--from Jax!" K.C.'s eyes have widened when Flèche charges in. Leaning forward from her seat on the couch, she scruffs the dog with both hands, murmuring quietly under her breath. "Yes, excellent, A-plus dog." Her blink looks a little owlish when she looks back up at Lucien. Then Matt, frowning slightly when he leans on the couch. "Juice -- I like juice. Only those treats?" She nods toward the jar. "For her." "Oh -- no, there are more jars in the pantry with her food. And she's welcome to any treats you like to carry, though she'll be a bit shameless about begging. We'll be sure and show you where all her things are kept -- ah!" Lucien reaches for a stapled pamphlet of papers on the coffee table. He turns the papers over to K.C. as he rises. "It's also all written here if you need. -- Juice, right. Is mango-peach alright?" He's already heading off toward the kitchen. Flèche deposits the rope toy on KC's knee--see how generous!--and noses at her pockets with a long, pointy muzzle. Her tail thumps faster against the the floor when Lucien passes over the sheaf of papers. "She's not allergic or sensitive to any foods that we're aware of, and will probably want anything /you/ eat, too, regardless of how palatable it actually is." Matt sinks down and his slouchy old armchair. "We can send you an electronic copy of the document, which might be more convenient. You already know our contact information, I think, but it's all listed on the first page, just in case. Also her vet." He glances up, as if searching for cues on the ceiling. "In the vanishingly unlikely event that there is an emergency, and you can't get hold of us or our siblings, try Jax or Steve. Ah...what else would you like to know?" "Yeah okay that juice is fine. Treats are fine." K.C. is still petting Flèche, eyes bouncing between the brothers rapidly. One hand takes the rope toy, dangling it by its end for the dog. "Other dogs. Is she friendly?" She's focused on the dog while she asks this. "On a leash. Off a leash. Dog park." Quieter, under her breath: "Jax. Captain America Steve." "They have spare keys as well, if ever you should need them." Lucien has disappeared into the kitchen and is now returning with a glass of juice. "I've had two copies made for you so you can have a spare." Sidestepping Flèche and her toy, he sets the juice down on a coaster on the table. "Oh, she simply adores other pups but she can be a bit over-enthusiastic at times so it's often better to let them approach her so she doesn't scare them. Or," he adds, glancing briefly at K.C. before taking his seat again, "their people. She will be quite excited at any time to go to the dog park, though you may have a time of it coaxing her to leave again. There's a dog door in the kitchen so she may be out back when you arrive. Oh, and you're quite welcome to help yourself to snacks or any drinks from the fridge if you like -- there's usually something on the counter and it must be grueling out in the heat all day long." His brows furrow, fingers lacing together on his lap. "Am I forgetting anything? There's a toy snake in that basket that is her most favourite of things. If she gives you any trouble, let us know." Flèche leaps to her feet and seizes the free end of the rope toy, tugging at it with remarkable exuberance and force. She drops her forelegs low to get better leverage, her hindquarters sticking up in the air, tail swishing wildly. "Many of the regulars at the Tompkins Square Park dog run know her, and can help you round her up if she's obstinate about leaving." Matt breaks into a guilelessly happy smile, watching the dog at play. "I might be home when you come on some days--Gaétan, too--but you needn't be especially quiet. Also, feel free to rest here a while out of the heat, if you feel inclined and have time." He glances over at his brother. "Oh, yes, there's a list of the commands she knows, verbal and gestural, in the document. I hope this isn't excessive..." His smile is suddenly touch sheepish. "We have every confidence in your knowledge and skills, it's just--we've never hired a dog walker before, that's all." K.C. tugs the rope from one side to the other, leaning back against the back of the sofa as the dog pulls harder. "Suga Mama also has a snake." Yank, yank, yank. Her efforts to dislodge the rope come with a fierce scowl of concentration. "Squeaks." Her other hand still holds the sheaf of paper. Eyes dropping intermittently to look it over. "Yeah, okay. Next block over there is a very good dragon." She pats the large carabiner of keys she is wearing. "Also likes the dog park. Dog park buddies. Key, por favor." Whispered softer to the dog: "So much fun we'll have." | |
