ArchivedLogs:Interests

Interests
Dramatis Personae Josiah, Lucien	2014-04-20 '
Location A Gala
Another Easter, another Easter gala thrown by Mama Brink. This one has taken over the J Room, a 4,000-square feet just off Times Square with views of 7th avenue. It's not huge, but big enough to not be called "intimate," though that's exactly what this event is billed as. Featuring dark wood and gold-trimmed lighting, the space is elegant enough for the crowd that's milling about while caterers wend their way through tailored suits and dresses, white-linen dining tables, and an area set up for a small, yet inviting, auction. With opening speeches - given in favor of the NYC Food Bank - out of the way, it's time for the guests to mingle before dinner. The one thing Josiah likes about the J Room is the bar. He can ditch the tired decor (especially the carpeting) and even the crowd to an extent. But at the bar he feels most at home. Currently, he's leaning against it with a manhattan in his hand. Dressed in a tailored houndstooth jacket, a pink checkered shirt and a cotton tie, he certainly looks the part. Yet his expression is tired, bored even. As if he's done this kind of thing too many times. Lucien has been Mingling for some while -- technically, he's here /with/ someone; he showed up in the company of a young real estate heiress but has since mostly just been making the requisite amount of polite conversation while she does much the /same/. He looks anything but bored -- at least when engaged in conversation, his smiles come easily, his green eyes lively. He's dressed elegantly tailored as well, dove-grey suit with pinstripes that are only very subtly pink. He is only just now making his way over to the bar, fingers splaying lightly againsts its surface as he finds a spot nearby Josiah to lean in and order an old-fashioned; his head turns after placing his order, eyes skipping over Josiah with quick appraisal. "You might do well to trade that out for something more stimulating," he suggests with a quiet note of amusement in his tone. Josiah blinks and glances over to the man who'se sidled up nearby. He straightens his posture on instanct, coming off his lean on the counter. "Is it that obvious?" he asks, sucking in a breath of air that's exhaled in a whoosh a moment later. "I'll have to make a note of that." His gaze flicks across Lucien briefly as he sips from his glass. "Are you here for Easter or Passover," he asks, gauging the man with an equally amused look, though still appearing a bit browbeaten. "There was a little something about the eyes." Lucien's fingers flutter in vague wave towards Josiah's eyes, a small twitch pulling up at the corners of his mouth. His words are quietly accented, a hint of francophone tinge to his syllables. "-- No," he answers the question lightly, dismissing the question of Easter and Passover both at once. "I am here for the Food Bank, of course. And the company. Why, was it /religious/ observances lulling you to sleep?" "No, I wasn't being lulled to sleep exactly," Josiah says, setting his glass on the bar counter and slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. "My mind's just elsewhere today." He inclines his head and widens his eyes, showing that he really is awake. "I should say welcome, though. I'm Josiah. This is my mother's event. And who might you be?" "Ah, a Brink. Give your mother my regards, then. It has been a charming evening." Lucien extends a hand in offering together with his introduction. "Lucien. Tessier. Where /was/ your mind being taken, then? I do hope somewhere interesting, at the least." Josiah slips one hand out of his pocket and extends to Lucien, giving the other man's a hearty shake. "Nice to meet you, Lucien," He says, dropping the hand and reaching over to pick his drink up once again. "Probably not interesting for you. I won't bore you with the details. However, I would like to know what brings you around here. I don't think I've heard your name tossed arounnd before. Then again, I may just have not been listening well enough." Lucien's handshake comes with a very faint-subtle thread of -- /something/, ill-defined and barely noticeable, a quiet whisper of happiness, a shiver of more /lively/-pleased warmth licking out at the edges of Josiah's mood; it's not overt and might just as easily be attributed to the easy warmth in Lucien's smile with the firm shake before he, too, collects his drink and leans back against the bar. "My interests," he says lightly, "spread wide enough I am a hard man to bore. Or perhaps I have just met very few boring people?" He lifts his drink, tipping it to himself for a small swallow. "Oh, likely not. I doubt it's a name often tossed. I am mostly just here," he admits with an easy laugh, tipping his drink in indication of a smiling brunette across the room in a very well-tailored emerald-green dress, "-- because Miss Leyland wanted an evening out." Over the rim of his cup, his eyes flick over Josiah. "What is it you do when not pressed into attendance at family events?" Josiah certainly seems to perk up after the handshake, his mood partly attributed to whatever was in that handshake and partly to the fact that he's now chatting with a strapping young gentleman. "I'm a man of many interests, as well," he says, peering over to the woman in the green dress for a moment. "But I suppose if you're asking what I do for a living, it's writing. Essays and news stories, mostly." He shrugs and offers a smile. "And what about you?" "I help get people what they want." Lucien's answer comes easily, light and with a quiet note of laughter glimmering in his eyes along with it. "/Was/ I asking that? Mmm. I was asking about /you/. If your interests /align/ with how you make your living, then I suppose I was. Do you write about things that interest you?" Josiah's smile becomes a smirk as the man rolls his eyes a bit at Lucien's response. "Yeah, I guess I do," he says. "We'll see if things keep going that way, but I have a feeling they will. This town's full of excitement, as you well know, I'm sure." He sips a bit more, the cocktail loosening him up a bit. "So there's one thing. I like writing. Tell me something you like. And let's give an answer with a little more substance this time, alright?" "More excitement than it knows what to /do/ with, at times." Lucien's voice is just a little dry, here; his eyes lower to his glass, one side of his mouth twitching up crookedly as his weight sinks slightly onto one elbow. "What do you like like writing /about/?" His gaze lifts back to Josiah, and he exhales a quiet laugh. "There was substance. I told you the truth. I like," he answers, "my job. At least the parts of it where I connect people with the things they are seeking. Even if it's something as simple as a night out on their one weekend in New York. -- I work for the Hellfire Club," he clarifies, now, eyes skipping back briefly to the woman he came with and then to Josiah. "And while I have an official title in essence my job is -- just as I said. But 'Djinn' doesn't quite look professional on a business card." "Fair enough," Josiah tells Lucien, finishing his drink in one last gulp. "The Hellfire Club? Now thats something I don't hear every day." He smirks and looks like he's about to say something when his phone goes off. He pulls it from it's home in his jacket pocket and frowns. "I'm sorry, but it's work. I want to pick your brain some more, though. Something tells me you'll be more interesting than the typical gala guest." He tosses out a wink before making for a brisk exit, cellular device held tight against his ear. "I find if you pick /any/ brain long enough near all of them turn up something of interest." Lucien lifts his glass, tipping it in quiet salute to Josiah. "Enchanté, Mr. Brink." His smile has lingered, eyes following Josiah out as he takes another swallow of his old-fashioned.