ArchivedLogs:Inviting Danger

Inviting Danger
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Steve
In Absentia	2016-05-11 "{That sounds not so dissimilar from -- half of the humans who lived through the plague, really.}"
Location <NYC> New Leash on Life
A thin sliver of a rowhouse recently converted to a spartan but functional kennel, New Leash on Life's headquarters isn't much to look at. Its back yard is fenced, but almost comically tiny, not fit for anything except an extreme emergency potty break. It is, however, right next to a very nice dog park, and volunteers can often be seen taking dogs in threes and fours to play there. Inside, the first floor is taken up by the reception area, a small office with an even smaller break room, the kitchen, and a few temporary kennels by the back door. The second floor consists almost entirely of smartly partitioned kennels for dogs, while the first floor is reserved for the cats and other, smaller pets. There are water bowls, dog beds, leashes, poop bags, cleaning supplies, and tubs of treats tucked into every available corner of the place. Steve is just returning inside with three dogs -- a youngish black lab mix, a particularly lanky German shepherd, and an enormous brindled mutt who might be part pit bull and part some kind of mastiff. The dogs are all panting and wagging and generally worn-out but happy; the man looks in no way winded at all, though his hair is a bit of a mess. He wears a cerulean blue t-shirt with an ornate bronze hourglass (the sand inside is rainbowy glitter) above the words 'Old Fashioned Time Traveler', olive cargo pants, and black combat boots. He offers the receptionist a dazzling smile before leading his charges into the temporary kennel area in the back and letting them slurp water noisily. A short while after Steve returns, the door opens again. Lucien is dogless -- looks dressed more for work than for Dog, in trim heather-grey vest and slacks, crisp button-down, polished oxfords. The smile he offers the receptionist is not quite /dazzling/, either -- but it's warm all the same, quick and easy as he makes his way in. "{Good afternoon}. Forgive my interruption," there's only the faintest hint of apology in his softly accented voice, "but do you know if Steve is in today, by chance?" The receptionist is a young Latina with short, choppy hair and a face that looks very accustomed to smiling. "{Welcome!}" she chirps in perhaps surprisngly facile French, with an unsurprisingly ready smile. "Oh, yes, he just got in, actually. {Just a moment, please,} I'll go fetch him." She slips out from behind the desk and trots down the hall. Pokes her head into the mud room by the back door (someone has put up a handwritten cardboard sign declaring it 'Swap Space'). "Yo Cap, some hot Quebecois dude asking for you by name." She says this -- probably not /so/ quietly that it couldn't be overheard. "I'll take your dogs up if you wanna go talk to him." Steve is in the process of dispensing treats -- the two older dogs are sitting for theirs, but the young lab is bouncing up and down -- and looks at his fellow volunteer with one upraised eyebrow. "I think I know who that is." He blushes just a touch as he holds out the leashes for her to take. "{Please do, and thank you.}" He ducks into the break room to wash his hand and comes out front looking maybe just a /little/ surprised to see Lucien, though his smile is bright and unguarded all the same. "{Good day, and welcome! It's good to see you.}" Pale blue eyes search the small reception area as if he expects someone else to leap out from behind the cat tree. "{Can I help you with anything? Or are you just dropping by to say hello?}" "Merci." Lucien's hands fold behind his back as the receptionist rises -- though only briefly. He unfolds them soon enough to pluck a brochure off the desk, leafing through it idly. His lips twitch when the woman identifies him to Steve -- not /precisely/ resolving into a smile. When Steve arrives he looks back up with a quick smile once more. "{I apologize, no, not /that/ Quebecois man. He is not hiding anywhere here. Though I would not put it past him to have /already/ disappeared in search of pups.}" He folds the leaflet neatly shut, tucks it carefully back in its holder. "{I was in the neighborhood and recalled you would be here. I thought you might be able to...}" He trails off, lips briefly compressing. "{Assist.}" Steve's blush returns with a vengeance, the red creeping all the way back to his ears. "{Oh, it's not -- that is, I'm very pleased to see you, of course, but I know Matt has been longing for a dog. Which...}" He glances at the brochure, smiling faintly. "{...doesn't mean you're /not./ And I would be happy to assist, of course. Do you have any criteria -- in terms of size, temperament, and so on?}" Lucien's next smile is smaller -- just a thin twitch, his head inclining in slight acknowledgment. "{My brother does quite want a dog, it is true.}" He folds his hands behind his back again, a note of amusement entering his tone. "{Criteria, oh. Goodness. So long as they have a certain, ah, /dogginess/ about them I feel quite sure Matt will be delighted.}" He looks up at Steve curiously. "{/You/ have resisted taking any of them home with you yet, though?}" "{Ah, but Matt isn't the only one who must live with the dog.}" Steve picks up a tablet from its charging cradle and taps on its screen a few times. "{Your opinions and Gaetan's should factor, even if the dog is explicitly /Matt's/.}" The receptionist returns from upstairs, hanging up the leashes in the mudroom before returning to her desk. "{I wanted to hold off until I moved into my own place and cleared it with my housemate -- both of which have now been accomplished. I'll be taking a dog home this week, just a matter of deciding which one.}" He nods in the direction of the stairs. "{Would you like to go up and take a look?}" "{Oh, Gaetan and Desi will both be pleased. My siblings...}" Lucien trails off here, though, a very brief furrow in his brows. It clears as he looks towards the stairs as well. "{Oh! Yes. Please. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind that is why I drifted this way. How is it going with your new housemate, by the by?}" Steve leads the way up the stairs, each step edged with textured tape for better traction. "{Savannah -- we're getting on fine. She's also excited at prospective dog, and she's a much better cook than I. Though...I guess that doesn't say a /whole/ lot.}" The second storey landing houses a dog-grooming station, beyond which there are rows of kennels in varying sizes, most of them occupied. A few dogs start barking or whining for attention, and many more rise and come to their doors, hopeful, tails held high. Steve grabs a handful of treats from a large plastic tub on a shelf and goes to calm the instigator of barking, a smallish off-white terrier mix. "{Duncan has separation anxiety,}" he explains, feeding the dog through the bars. "{Some of these dogs have been through a lot, but we work with them.}" "{It doesn't set the highest bar, no.}" Though amused, Lucien does not sound particularly disparaging with this. "{Perhaps you should come over for dinner some time. Though I suppose, really, there are not -- a shortage of cooks around your place.}" He follows after Steve, pausing at the head of the stairs -- though only briefly. His eyes flit along the first row of kennels; he pulls in a slow breath, drifting further into the room. "{Given the mission of your organization, I imagine quite a few of them have. What constitutes 'a lot', in a place like this?}" "{There are plenty of cooks around the Commons,}" Steve agrees. "{Even so, I'd like to come over, when it's convenient for you.}" Duncan calms down by degrees, and Steve straightens up. "{It's relative, I suppose, but just then I meant the ones who were out on their own for a good long while. Those tend to startle easily, warm slowly to new people, and eat like they're never going to see food again.}" The other dogs housed near the stairs are mostly calm, watching the humans with varying degrees of eagerness and wariness. A small black pomeranian whose hair must have been shaved a few months back, eyes keen and ears constantly swivelling. A wide-bodied and short-legged mutt who resembles nothing so much as a blue merle ottoman with a head and a constantly wagging tail. A yellowish dog with vaguely Akita-like features, mushing its nose through the bars to snuffle at Lucien. "{My schedule these days is -- largely of my own design. I can make time for dinner, certainly.}" Lucien's expression has warmed, again, a smile not so much on his lips as where it touches his bright green eyes. "{And I am sure Matt would love to have you as well.}" There's a very slight flick of his eyes away from the kennels and toward Steve, a very slight dip of his head. He stops by the yellow dog, hand turning palm-out towards the kennel as he crouches lower by it. The small huff he lets out is quiet. "{That sounds not so dissimilar from --}" His eyes are drifting, scanning the row of kennels. "{-- half of the humans who lived through the plague, really.}" "{I still haven't quite gotten over this sense that my dietary restrictions are an imposition to those who don't share it, even though I know perfectly well you were aware of them when you made that offer -- and every time that you've invited me to your home for that matter.}" Steve goes to a kennel containing the enormous brindled mutt whom he had taken jogging just a while ago -- she's still panting, but rises to greet him happily. "{It...means a great deal to me.}" The yellow Akita mix (the scrawled tag on the kennel reads 'Boomerang') sniffs daintily at Lucien's hand. Then, after a moment's consideration, deigns to lick him, lips pulled back by the bars of the kennel to somewhat comical effect. "{You're not wrong. I was about to say they don't have the benefit of understanding what happened, but...}" Steve shakes his head, scritching the big mutt's ear through the bars. "{I'm not sure how well we can be said to /understand/ it, or how much help understanding it really is in terms of coping with the aftermath.}" "{I was aware. I should hardly consider myself any kind of decent chef if I /required/ meat to lend my dishes flavour. Besides --}" The light amusement that had been in Lucien's tone mutes, slightly, here. "{It is not as though I haven't had plenty of practice.}" His fingers slip through the bars, curling beneath Boomerang's chin to scratch at it while the dog licks at his palm. He turns sideways, shoulder propped against a bar of the kennel as he looks over at Steve. "{For all the intensity with which I have studied the outbreak, I still do not know that /I/ understand it. I don't know if less comprehension would be a blessing, or a curse.}" "{All cooking is a fantastic mystery to me, meat or no, but I take your point.}" Steve bows his head, his own expression distant with worry until Zenobia tilts her head to lean her ear harder into his hand. He obliges with somewhat more vigorous scritching, smiling again, if thinly. "{Even besides understanding the illness itself, there is the /scope/ of the loss -- from the cold statistics to orphaned dogs.}" Boomerang doesn't look too distraught over anything at the moment, though. His dark brown eyes squint half shut with contentment, and his tongue darts out occasionally as if to express his approval in lieu of tail-wagging. "{I can let some of them out, if you'd prefer,}" Steve offers. "{Just need to put up the gate by the stairs...}" "{It's not so hard as all that. Like most things, it only takes practice. Perhaps you might come early, and I will help -- teach you.}" There's a slight distance to Lucien's tone, a small crease to his brow, but he shakes it off a moment later. Glances down towards the dog licking at his hand, then over to Zenobia. "{That sounds like /inviting/ danger. Have you succumbed to any of their charms in particular, yet?}" Steve looks up at Lucien, his expression perhaps a little startled. "{Oh, I -- would relish the opportunity. I do rather enjoy playing sous-chef and learning from the masters and just haven't done as much that that...lately.}" He goes to the entrance from the stairwell and tugs a sturdy baby gate shut. "{Well, I lead a dangerous life, but I would by no means force the same on you. Feel free to let Boomerang out, though -- he's a pretty calm fellow.}" Slight pause. "Until he sees a squirrel. We're still working on that." To the question, he smiles and lets the huge brindled mutt out of her kennel. She bounds out and turns a couple of quick circles, then plants herself down at Steve's side, leaning her massive head against his thigh and studying Lucien placidly. "{I'll at least be fostering Zenobia for a while. We're still leash-training her, and she's /strong./ But really...I'd take them /all/ home if I could.}"