ArchivedLogs:Sustenance

Sustenance
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt
In Absentia	2015-11-02 "{How am I any use to you lying on the couch sucking down tea and making pathetic noises.}" (part of flu tp.)
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. The the sky looks dreary, it's actually a rather mild day for November. In here, it's even warmer, but Matt is still sequestered in a lumpy nest of blankets on the couch. Only his head is visible, propped up on a fluffy pillow no doubt pilfered from someone's bed. His short, choppy brown hair is messier than usual, his green eyes glassy look, his nose red and his lips chapped. A laptop open on the coffee table before him is playing /Leverage/ ('The Rashomon Job'). He is doing a great deal of sniffling, punctuated every so often by a soft noise somewhere between a huff of laughter and a whimper of discomfort. There's a warm herby smell coming from the kitchen, quiet snatches of humming intermittently coming from there as well. And now there is a Lucien, dressed down in chinos and a very soft grey v-neck tee, emerging with a bowl of split-pea soup that he sets on a potholder on the table, setting a mug of milk oolong beside it. He returns to the kitchen after, emerging with a second bowl of soup and mug of tea. /He/ settles down on the floor by the head of the couch, leaning back against it. He eyes the show, then eyes Matt. "You did have quite some time to perfect that look. Even so, it is startling how well you slip back into it." In the brief interim while Lucien returned to the kitchen for his food, Matt had scooped up the tea and now has it cradled under his chin between his hands. "Thank you," he croaks softly. Not clear whether he means it for the tea, the soup, or the compliment. "It's like riding a bicycle, no?" His chuckle is very brief and trails off into a miserable groan that only fades when he takes a sip of his tea. "{Why are you so good to me, Luci?}" "Well." Lucien's lips twitch faintly upward, his head tipping back against the couch. "{Convenience, really. You provide quite a lot of free babysitting. How would I manage to keep my career?} I only have so much time left to be young and glamorous. I need to take advantage while I can." "Even like this?" Matt works a hand free and rests it on his brother's shoulder. It feels quite hot, though perhaps as much from the tea as from his fever. "{How am I any use to you lying on the couch sucking down tea and making pathetic noises.} Besides, you will never be unglamorous and you know it." "{Totally useless. No. Get your horrible germs off me, tsk.}" Lucien /shoos/ at Matt's hand with a small flicking gesture. "{How would you expect me to /project/ all congested and snuffly.} I do not wear pathos nearly so well as you. It is not," he declares with a small smirk, "glamorous." "Alas! {I knew it, you do not want me anymore.}" Matt throws his hand over his eyes, leaning back. "You'll need to find yourself a new au pair. Maybe a more glamorous one. More fun. Less..." He coughs dramatically into a blanket. "...broken." "{/You/, I want. Your germs, though, you can keep those all to yourself. There are limits to sharing.}" Lucien hides a chuckle in another sip of tea, watching Matt's dramatics with a small side-eye. "Oh, god, that accent." His brows have raised, briefly, at the television, /this/ time his chuckle is an outright snort. "You /can/ be glamorous. I have seen it. Once or twice. With some work. And," his lips press together, "less snot." "{Me, my germs...it's the whole package.}" Matt sniffles indignantly. "You've been exposed well and good, already. The germs just can't abide your magnificent body." A faint smile spreads across his face at the scene on the computer screen. "Yeah. /Parker's/ version is the best, though." "The germs are just worried," Lucien answers lightly, "Rightfully concerned about the price tag that comes with getting into this." He sets his tea down, picking up his bowl. Quieter, a small frown slipping across his face: "{You really should take a break from your theatrics long enough to get some food into you. Fluids, at least. There is no reason to /prolong/ your misery.}" Glancing back at the television, he contemplates this a moment. "Parker is -- the thief? She is delightful," he agrees with a soft huff of laughter. "And certainly pulls off her teammate very well." Instead of replying, Matt obliges by taking a long pull off of his tea. Then, leaning forward, he exchanges it for the bowl of soup on the table with exaggerated motions. "{See me taking in sustenance?}" Theatrically, of course. "She is the thief, yes. They are all delightful, but she is the best." He starts in on his soup slowly, one shallow spoonful at a time. Then, earnestly. "{I'll get well as quickly as I can.} So you don't need to replace me." "I should cancel the auditions for your successor, then?" Lucien glances at his watch. "{Good. That is a chunk of my afternoon I would much rather spend --}" Briefly, his eyes flick up towards Matt; then back to the screen with a small tug of smile. "{Lounging.}"