ArchivedLogs:Toothsome

Toothsome
Dramatis Personae Emma, Lucien
In Absentia	2014-01-14 Plans for actions with more bite take form. (Part of the Prometheus TP)
Location <NYC> Emma's Apartment - East Village
Bzzzzt. That's the buzzer to Emma's apartment building. Buzzing. Emma pads over to the wall panel and picks up the receiver, listening. "Hello?" "{Good evening, Emma.}" Lucien's voice is pleasantly warm in contrast to the chill grey drizzle that patters down light but steady outside. "{Might I intrude?}" {But, of course, Darling,}" Emma replies in kind, her tongue wrapping around the words with well practiced ease, but it is not native grace. She hangs up the receiver and pushes the admittance button, then heads to her room to finish her shift from daytime to evening wear. A knock arrives at the apartment door, however much longer it takes for Lucien to ascend the stairs to Emma's floor. He is casually-dressed, today; black corduroys, dark loafers, a deep green button-down under his peacoat. There's a black umbrella in his hand; it's been well shaken out downstairs but, folded but not strapped shut, it still host to a mist-like scattering of water droplets tiny against its surface. Whatever Emma was wearing before has been replaced by a pair of soft gray, knit tights, with an oversized white sweater over the top, her fingers busily putting up her hair as she approaches the door, sliding a small lacquered stick into the burgeoning bun to hold everything in place. Strands fall artfully around her face when she tugs them into place. She pulls the door open, head tilting to one side as she looks Lucien over, her blue eyes pleased behind her wide rimmed glasses. "Come in, come in, please, shake off or whatever you need to do to leave some of that moisture behind." "Thank you." Lucien leaves his umbrella just inside the door once he's in, reaching once his hand is freed to offer Emma the small brown paper bag that has been hanging over his wrist alongside it; there's flecks of damp on the paper, largely from brushing up against the umbrella on the walk up, but the little white cardboard boxes inside are safely dry. He sheds his jacket once the door is closed behind him, leaving his damp-soled shoes by the door as well. "Le Cirque is not generally a carry-out type of place but I thought a little cajoling was worth bringing you some of their creme brulee. I haven't found better in Manhattan yet." "Oh, Lucien, you spoil me." Emma takes the bag from Lucien when he gives it to her and waits until he is a little less encumbered to brush a kiss against his cheek. She then leads the way into the kitchen to pull out the boxes and begin to dismantle them and reveal the dessert inside. "Can I offer you anything? It's not as cold as it ought to be, but with all this rain, I think a cup of tea could warm some of the dampness out of you - or wine, if you prefer?" The small ramekins that the creme brulees were baked in are then plated and the boxes put aside. "Goodness. I rarely say no to tea but a good wine would really be welcomed, just now." Lucien's light return-brush of cheek-kiss comes with its usual warm flush of soothing-happiness, light and subtle. He follows after Emma to the kitchen, resting fingertips atop the counter in a pseudo-lean. "Even if it isn't considered wise to mix business and pleasure. Sometimes necessary, when the business is unpleasant." Emma gets out two long stem wine glasses and then turns to look Lucien over. "If it's unpleasant business, shall we cut it with red wine? Or is it light enough to be paired with white?" She doesn't really keep much in her kitchen, so when she opens up a cabinet, it displays bottle necks rather than food stuffs. She leaves the cabinet open for him and moves to fetch spoons in the time being. "I think it is a red wine kind of evening." Lucien drifts towards the cabinet, looking through the offering and then selecting a sweeter red than his usual tastes, to pair with the dessert. "Though I suppose, heavy or otherwise, it is a positive sort of development. I have been turning a small amount of attention to the problem of these labs, lately. Even making a measure of headway in influencing public opinion of them, I believe. But public opinion alone does not lead to concrete results. Only -- outrage." Though the corner of his mouth twitches faintly upwards. "Admittedly long-overdue outrage." Emma smiles as she places the spoons next to the plates and turns to find the corkscrew for Lucien. "I have been admiring your handiwork - as much as one can admire such raw, devastating stories." She holds the device out for him, glancing at the label and reading it while it is still in his hands. Lucien exhales; soft and brief, it might be a laugh or might be a sigh. "Those stories are something, mm?" His lips press together; he takes the corkscrew with a nod of thanks, setting the bottle on the counter to uncork it. "But they are only stories. Stories are hard to kill, but they are hard to act on as well. And public attention is fickle. Their appetite for horror has surely already been sated." He bites down on his lip as he works the cork out of the bottle with a quiet pop, pouring each of the wine goblets half-full once he has the wine open. "Certainly enough, we have helped associate the project negatively in the average mind but that means little. There is likely to be any legal action based on the personal testimony of mutants. And so for my next trick --" He offers one of the goblets out to Emma, fingers pinched against its slender stem. "I intend to procure something more /toothsome/ to bite into. Not for the public. For the law." "Even if they aren't sated, they are likely becoming numb. The horrors of that establishment have been brought to light. Our culture is constantly looking for the next thing, what is even bigger, better, or in this case, more soul rending." Emma picks up a glass and a plate with dessert (and spoon), and heads out into the living room, taking up residence on a couch, legs tucking up underneath her. "I feel like a prime example of what I was just talking about, because now, I'm dying to know what this toothsome thing is." Lucien follows after Emma, taking the second plate along with his glass. He folds himself down into the opposite side of the couch, angled inward to face Emma. "The horror stories were just an opening volley. To render it that much harder to sweep evidence under the rug, when it comes to light." He swirls the wine slowly in the glass, watching the wide legs run down its side. "Which, of course, requires bringing evidence to light. Hard, solid, evidence. Not testimonies. Documentation. Videos. Biological samples. If we are lucky, even bodies. Our mutual architect friend has been an invaluable help -- he's gotten me the names and addresses and daily /habits/ of a /number/ of people still currently employed in Promethean labs. Ones who were not entirely sanguine about their work to begin with, and even less so now the videos have come out." He pauses here to take a small sip of wine, eyes closing in appreciation. "But. While he is perhaps unparalleled when it comes to his ability to gather information, I think this requires a subtler touch than simply /compelling/ them to come forward. A few of them, though, might be /persuaded/ to cooperate. And you and I, I think, can be quite persuasive." "Oh, indeed. I quite agree. I do so appreciate the darling hydra, but at this point, subtly is not his gifting." Emma listens with rapt attention, her eyes focused on Lucien's face, drifting between the focus of his eyes and the movement of his mouth. She takes a sip when it is her time to talk so as not to interrupt her focus, then reaches out and sets her glass down on the nearby coffee table. "I am definitely interested. I would like this despicable behavior to be put at an end as quickly as possible." There's a hardness to her words that is carried in their absolution instead of the tone of her voice, more in the way she sits upright and the precise positioning of her fingers than the expression upon her face. She is engaged. "Are we talking local individuals or do I need to plan a vacation?" "As far as information suggests, their team of --" Lucien's smile twitches a little /wryly/ as he continues, "-- terrorists has shut down all the laboratories in convenient driving distance of New York. Unfortunately, it will take a bit of a trip. We have individuals in --" He takes another sip of wine, and then just returns to swirling the wine absently in his glass. "Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Tennessee. You can take your pick of these -- /delightful/ locations. Though there is one in Tennessee who seems like his tastes would run more in /my/ direction, I might take the worst of these places off your hands." "Hmmmm. I appreciate your sacrifice. For a moment. I thought I was going to have to tease my hair up and wander around Dollywood trying to figure out how to fit in." Emma smiles and uses her spoon to crack the surface of her dessert and fish out the first taste of caramelized and crystalized sugar atop the heavenly custard the sticks to her spoon. She is quiet as she enjoys Lucien's offering, a soft inhale breaking the silence. "Mmm. Amazing. Where did you say you got these again? Ah, that's beside the point. We should get the details finalized and then take a break from business. Does that sound amenable?" "Oh, just for that mental image I'm inclined to let you have Tennessee again." A soft laugh accompanies this. Lucien sets his wine down so that he can pick up his spoon, as well. "Certainly. We can run down the list of prospects, figure out where we might each both have the most success. We really only need a couple people -- provided they bring enough concrete evidence that legal action can move forward." He takes a small bite of the dessert, his smile easing. "Le Cirque. I would say we should visit in person some time, but really the dessert is the gem of their menu. Still, I there are plenty of other -- less overhyped places to spend an evening." "Here, for one," Emma replies with a small smile. "Especially since we'll soon be running away from the comforts of home." She leans over once more and grabs her glass, lifting it instead of sipping. "To a productive evening." Lucien just smiles, in response to this. Lifts his glass, as well. And then settles in for a little comfortable pleasure, with his business.