ArchivedLogs:Impetus

Impetus
Dramatis Personae Emma, Lucien	2015-08-13 "It might be time for us to start making our own good news."
Location <HFC> Solarium - Hellfire Clubhouse
The Solarium at the Hellfire Club is nearly as old as the building with architecture that mingles the original Victorian with Art Nouveau stained glass, flooding the covered balcony with sunshine and warmth in all seasons. Some of the plants within date back even further, moved inside as the land surrounding grew more and more urbanized. Small trees that could not be moved any longer share soil with fragrant flowers and coiling vines, keeping the air clean and smelling sweet all year round. Small tables of wrought iron with mosaic surfaces are surrounded by matching, padded chairs, limiting group sizes to three or four at the most. The sunset is glorious in the solarium, lending the surreal mixture of the natural inside and the neon world without at night. As another Thursday starts to wind down, Emma makes her way into the Solarium to watch what is left of the sunset. She's brought with her a glass of white wine from the bar, but is busily texting a dinner request to the kitchen. She finds a table to slide her glass onto before placing herself into a chair. To beat the heat, she is wearing a voluminous skirt, high waisted, the hem ending at the top of her knees in the front and mid calf in the back, with a bodice layered in creamy, translucent petals. She quickly slips out of the jacket, folds it in half, and lays it on the back of her chair before settling her shoulders against it. Finally relaxing, she starts to refocus on her phone, hand bringing her wine to her lips again. For a time Emma is left to her solitude. The phone chirps back with a standard confirmation of her request. A few people drift in and out of the room, settle in their own corners, begin their own meals. Eventually, quiet footsteps find their way to her table; a tray is set down, food laid out. Two meals rather than one. Lucien, being -- not actually a server here, does not leave after setting these out; he slips into a seat opposite Emma, draping his own lightweight jacket over the back of his chair. "Is there any /good/ news, there?" His head has tipped slightly towards the phone. "Well, the news rarely chooses to cover anything good. Not good for business and all of that," Emma opines quietly, turning to look at the table only after Lucien speaks. Eyebrows rise and her attention drift upward, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Our friend did not receive jail time, so I suppose that could be viewed as good, for whatever that's worth." She turns off her phone and lays it down where it is the least in the way on their dinner table. "It might be best to focus on personal stories to hear anything pleasant. How are you?" "No, he did not." Lucien leans back, slightly, in his chair. He lifts his own glass -- red wine, ather than white -- swirling it in the glass. "I happen to know that Judge Kinnear was in a particularly lenient mood, that afternoon. As to what it is worth --" A very small twitch, at the corner of his lips. "Evidently, a year of probation." He takes a sip of his wine, setting the glass back down. "My personal life has been far too filled with rehearsal to have accumulated stories, pleasant or otherwise. Unless running lines until my eyes cross scintillates you. How are /you/, ma cherie, please tell me you have had a more interesting summer than I." "Well, that's what you get for not opting for another musical," Emma smirks, amused. Her chin tilts just so as she studies his face once more before digging in to dinner - eggplant parmesan tonight. She starts cutting first and foremost, speaking while she dissects. "Well, it's a win for them, too. They've effectively eliminated a well known protester from showing up to most rallies and protests. They've tied his hands for a year. Lenient is good, but -- yes. I have been not been nearly as busy as I would like, but I have been reticent to take any time off. Something inside me is convinced something is going to happen soon and will not be dissuaded." "Rehearsing the same number fifty times in a day has its own sort of tedium, believe me." There's an amusement in Lucien's voice, as well. His own meal is light, a ginger-soy dressed salad with a generous assortment of mushrooms. Small cup of soup on the side. "Three counts of assault -- he was, at first, inclined towards jail time, but --" The glassy calm surface of his mind ripples, briefly. Not /quite/ enough to allow any clear images easily through. Enough for a hint, though, of -- amusement as well? Satisfaction? His eyes drop to his salad. His expression is simply quiet. "What -- they," the hesitation is oh-so-brief, "have done is paint a target on him." His gaze lifts back to Emma. "Something here? Or something --" A faint flick of fingers towards the glass walls, the setting sun. "Out there?" "More so than usual?" The target on Jax's back seems nothing new to Emma. She sips instead at her wine and sets down her glass before she starts fishing out a bite of eggplant and nibbling on it lightly. "I can't say exactly. I can't say that it's real either. Something is going to happen or something needs to happen. I would like to take this moment to remind you that I am not a precog - if there really is such a thing with all of the mutants running out there in the world. It is likely nothing but inner impetus to act." "Moreso than usual. An arrest while on probation could put him away for a good deal longer than -- well. The complete lack of real prison time he /has/ seen until now." Lucien's eyes drift back to the windows, fixing for a long while on the city outside. "Something needs to happen, that has been true for a long while. That, I suppose, will always be true." His forefinger traces slowly against the rim of his wine glass. "Did you know, arrests have been up this summer all around? Not only his. If the Registry ever gets its affairs back in order --" His nostrils flare, very faintly. "They will have quite a backlog of unhappy people to process." "If they ever get their affairs in order." Emma leans back in her chair, the meal losing her attention briefly. "I thought we were looking for good news. Why is good news so absent these days?" She shake her head gently and closes her eyes. "And we're starting to barrel right into the next year's presidential election." She exhales and looks over the rim of her glass at her companion. "Isn't that a dreadful thought?" "Good news." Lucien's lips compress for a moment, the circling motion of his finger halting. Then resuming, after a pause for contemplation. "The good news is that until now, nobody has mounted a strong challenge to this ridiculous law criminalizing /being/ mutant." The smile that follows is thin. "-- As yet, though, I have not heard even a shred of good news relating to the /election/. Gods spare us all." "Heaven help us." Emma finishes her glass of wine and rises, moving over to Lucien's side of the table and runs her fingers against his shoulder, gently resting her hand against the fabric of his shirt. "It might be time for us to start making our own good news. We should start planning -- something. What on earth can we do that will reap rewards quickly so we can have good news to discuss next time we sit to eat?" Lucien tips his head down with a small chuckle, leaning back into Emma's touch. "Change the landscape before we break fast? You /are/ ambitious." He picks up his spoon, now; draws his cup of soup closer to take a very small sip. "I doubt it will happen in time for tomorrow's omelette, but a sympathetic enough arrestee -- a sympathetic enough case -- it may well be time to topple that ridiculous law." Emma leans over a little to peek at his meal from his perspective. "I think you'll have to pick out breakfast. Your tastes seem more closely aligned to what I actually want -- instead of what I happen to be craving." The eggplant is thinly sliced and almost crispy in the way it's been fried, but the cheese on top diminishes that nutty flavor and only leaves behind the oil. Her hand slides a little lower on his chest as she straightens up again. << Yes, not before breakfast, >> She reluctantly agrees, fingers toying with Lucien's top button. << Has this been your plan all along, or are you coming up with it as new opportunities arise? >> "I could do you one better," Lucien offers lightly, over another sip of his soup. "I could /cook/ breakfast. My mornings are often far quieter than my evenings." << I have spent far too long cultivating his public image to let some would-be vigilante tear that work down too soon. -- It is all but certain the police will come for him, before the year is out. /We/ need to make sure they do it on our terms. >> << I'm excited to see your project develop, >> Emma curls her thoughts around the notion he presented, her mind reviewing everything that Jackson has done and how that has been received. She leans in and presses a small kiss to the side of his neck before moving back to her seat. "I love it when you cook. The way you handle spices and seasoning and especially herbs -- it's unique to you, and quite delicious." << How is he holding up during all of this? Is your project going to fall apart on his own? >> << His life is not -- what I would call at its most together, >> Lucien admits wryly. << But I do not need it to be. >> "Tomorrow, then."