ArchivedLogs:Only In The Best Of Company

Only In The Best Of Company
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Lucien, Rasheed
In Absentia	2013-10-10 '
Location <NYC> Hellfire Clubhouse - Upper East Side
Monochrome elegance at its finest: the Hellfire Club plays home to New York's elite, and has spared no expense in making that clear. Black and white marble tiles the floor, the pattern distinctly that of a chessboard. Rich wood paneling lines the walls, and the alcoves of the entry hall hold statues reminiscent of chess pieces. Meeting and dining halls provide plentiful space for the club's members to congregate, whatever their needs. The Hellfire's library, while far smaller than its ballroom in size, is far more prized in content. Hundreds of volumes line the meticulously tended shelves, the rarest kept carefully in climate-controlled cases under the watchful eye of the mansion's librarian. High-backed leather chairs and plush couches provide quiet reading spaces beneath soft lighting, and tall windows look out to the mansion's gardens beyond. The main ballroom of the mansion, once vast and opulent, is currently shut down for renovations, a host of contractors in and out during the daytimes. The hallways that branch off from the ballroom staircase are still accessible, though; they run in opposing monochrome: the stark white court's quarters to one side, the dark black court's quarters to the other. "-- November? The first? Do you have someone yet to plan the opening ga -- there /is/ going to be an opening gala, isn't there?" Rasheed is mid-conversation already, tucked into one of the Hellfire Club's comfortable dining rooms, this one in a large terraced atrium, pleasantly full of sunlight and greenery. The neurologist is dressed elegant to match the surroundings, crisp grey suit though all the tailoring in the world can't hide his habitual stoop-shouldered slouch. There's the remnants of food on the plate in front of him, though now he's currently looking over a coffee-tea-dessert menu, pensively. "Of course. Well, an opening event, of some sort. I'm not sure how applicable /gala/ will be. Food, sure, but hardly dancing. And, I suspect, gala is somewhat underset by the protesters that will be outside, and the screening process to get in the door." Iolaus replies, glancing around. "And, as nice as the new building is, this is the kind of place that more comes to mind when I think of 'gala' than the clinic." He is not nearly wearing as fine a suit. "Why not dancing?" Lucien slips himself into the conversation as though he belongs there; he matches Rasheed at least for elegance, charcoal suit neatly tailored. He comes up behind Iolaus, dipping to press a small kiss to the other man's temple; a soft flutter of warmth accompanies the touch. Rasheed gets a smile, warm as well. "The protesters outside are simply all the more reason your /cheer/ needs to eclipse them. Enough music and dancing and laughter can drown out most any hate." "Event, that sounds so --" Rasheed stops, as Lucien approaches. His eyes lift from the menu, ticking slowly up over Lucien; the smile that touches upon his face is warm too, if quick. "Lucien. Would you care to sit? We've finished lunch but I at least left room for tea." He waggles the menu at Lucien. "You should listen to the man, Iolaus. You don't let the protesters undercut you, /you/ outshine them." Iolaus turns in surprise as he hears the familiar voice, turning to press his lips to the other man's cheek in turn. "Lucien," he says, and his voice is warm and bright. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." He looks around again, as if looking for someone else, but then turns his eyes back to the other two men. "Perhaps you are right. I don't have anyone planning the event, yet. Just a bunch of ideas floating around; the business team is putting it together. Do you know of a good event planner?" "I work here," Lucien answers mildly, a slight twitch tugging at his lips. "I do have a colleague here who is exceptional in that field. Though I am not sure what sort of budget you are working with?" His brows lift, slightly. "I imagine not an extravagant one." There's a faint pause, at the invitation to sit, but his smile melts into something warmer as he takes the offered seat. "Oh, I hardly ever reject an invitation to tea. The Assam they have in at the moment is exceptional." "Assam it is, then. I expect you'd know best." Rasheed closes the menu, sitting it down on the table in front of him. "Why, do you know someone more in line with the clinic's --" A wry smile pulls at his lips, "Events budget?" This might be a joke. Presumably the clinic does not have large mountains of cash on hand for throwing parties. "Assam is delicious, and I very much hope it is as good as you say." Iolaus grins at Lucien, a warm smile. "You know my high standards on tea." A pause, and he laughs. "Minimal, at best." he says, wryly. "I think the reason we haven't gone searching for an event planner is the fear of the price. A few thousand, maybe. A handful." "Tch, Iolaus. As if I would mislead you on so important a subject." Lucien laces his fingers together, wrists resting on the edge of the table. "Minimal. Mmm. Well, I could inquire as to whether or not she cares to take the work on as a tax writeoff. Services rendered. Though," he adds with a quiet note of consideration and a soft touch of amusement, "if you are not opposed to the use of child labour I do know some exceptionally talented teenagers who might be thrilled for the spending money. It would be --" He turns his hand upwards, his smile small and neat, "-- shameless nepotism, but isn't that what connections are for?" "Are you talking about your sister?" Rasheed allows another smile at this. "I think this club is the last place on earth anyone could fault you for nepotism, How, ah," here there's a note of concern threading through the previous amusement, "How /is/ your family doing, lately?" He is only just starting to look around for a waiter when one materializes; he orders a pot of Assam and a plate of religieuses for the table. "I have nothing against nepotism, as long as I'm on the winning end of the deal," Iolaus says, a warm smile spreading on his face. He glances to Rasheed and then back to Lucien, questioningly. "Yes, how are your siblings? And how are you holding up?" A pause, and he adds, "You think Desiree might want to do it? It is a lot of responsibility, and I'm sure going to be quite the stressful event...." he trails off, fingertips drumming against the table for a moment. "Then again, it might be quite the feather in her cap. In certain circles, anyway. I don't want to push, especially considering what she has been through recently...." "And in other circles a deathknell for a career not yet even started. -- Been through?" Lucien looks genuinely puzzled at this, for a moment. "She is doing well. They are all doing well. I think she would be delighted. But I will check with my contact at the club, first. If you can get a /professional/ for low cost -- well, even my nepotism has boundaries." Rasheed's brows raise, slightly. "Your mother -- your brother. It has been a tumultuous time for them. For all of you." His small smile returns, after this. "I am glad to hear they are well, for all of that. -- Who is your contact here? The Club has had some truly excellent events, lately." "Very true." Iolaus gives Lucien a slow look, and shares a concerned glance for a brief moment with Rasheed. "I had no idea, Lucien," he murmurs quietly, lips quirking up into a playfully teasing smile. "Well. One way or another, please, feel free to give my contact information to anyone you think might be able to help. Desiree or a professional; willingness is more important to me than pedigree." Lacing his hands in his lap, Iolaus takes a long look around him, and then between the other two men. "I can imagine. I confess, I feel a little bit out of place. This seems much more like... well, like both of your kind of haunt than mine." "Frost," Lucien supplies Rasheed a name, "and she has run /many/ an excellent event here. I will talk to her. Even if she does not have the time, perhaps she will have some recommendations." He exhales softly, green eyes flitting around the atrium. "Well, I do work here. I would hope I fit in. It can be a nice break from the rest of the world, at times." "Frost, mmm. I have heard the name. People have only excellent things to say." Rasheed glances up again as their tea is brought out, still steeping in its pot, milk and sugar at the side. A plate with a trio of chocolatey filled pastries is set down beside it. He thanks the waiter, nodding and putting one teacup in front of himself. "Oh, I do not haunt here as much as I would like. I have found myself with some unexpected free time of late, though. I have been re-acquainting myself with their library." Iolaus turns his teasing look onto Rasheed. "I can't remember what free time even looks like, my friend," he says, chuckling. "If you see some, you'll have to point it out to me." His eyes sweep over to Lucien - and over Lucien - in a quick movement. "You fit in quite well, here. Both of you, but... you especially, Luci'. This kind of...." Iolaus waves a hand in the air, searching, dismissive. "-environ seems as if it was made for you. /Especially/ if their Assam is as good as you say." "So you say, and yet --" Lucien turns his hand upward, tipping his fingers not towards Iolaus but towards the room at large. "This is hardly working." He glances at the teapot, then glances at the timer set down beside it trickling black sand into its base. "Me especially?" This comes with a soft breath of laughter, a small shake of his head. "You have a strange sense of fitting in, Iolaus." "Lucien, I think, could make himself fit in anywhere." Rasheed dishes the three religieuses up onto three small plates, setting two down in front of the others. He looks amused at Lucien's comment, glancing between the other two men. "This," he agrees, "is definitively not working. I don't let him, when we're out together. He can save that for -- working-time." Iolaus chuckles and shakes his head from side to side. "All time is working time, Rasheed." he says, grinning at the other doctor. "Besides, you claim it's not work, and yet, look at the productivity that has happened!" This little joke makes him laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of his mirth. "Ah, thank you, Rasheed." Iolaus says, leaning in to smell the dessert, and the tea brewing beyond. "Perhaps you are right, Lucien. But... it seems to fit you, I still believe. That is /my/ truth, if not /the/ truth." "Your truth, I suspect," Lucien murmurs, leaning over to remove the tea basket from the pot once the last grains of sand trickle out of the timer, "does not always reside in the same place as the rest of ours, I suspect." He sets the basket on its dish, re-lidding the pot and pouring out three cups of tea, leaving the others to doctor theirs as they see fit. He takes his with both milk and sugar. "This is not work," Rasheed insists, mildly. "He just likes to fancy himself far more important than he is," he says in an entirely indiscreet aside to Lucien. "His world would fall apart if he /admitted/ to himself he's just as much at liberty to take breaks as the rest of us. And even does, from time to time." "Perhaps infrequently. Perhaps. You have caught me out," Iolaus says, looking between the older and the younger man. "But only in the best of company," he continues, affection written plain in his voice.