Logs:Apex

Apex
Dramatis Personae Damien, David, Lucien
In Absentia	2024-12-29 "How could I say no to such an offer."
Location <NYC> Le Bonne Entente - Astoria
This hotel is the reincarnation of a condemned neoclassical cathedral, drastically yet skillfully renovated such that its majesty feels distinctly sacred but agnostic of any particular creed. The annexes and exterior redesigns harmonize stunningly with the original architecture. By day plentiful sunlight streams in through tall stained glass windows. At night the white marble exterior is lit from below to faintly ethereal effect. The grounds are not extensive, but meticulously landscaped, with tables and seating arranged within a circular colonnade and benches scattered along paths through the surrounding gardens. In stark contrast, the interior columns are richly gold-veined black marble, relieved with lighter accents, softer furnishings, and a surprising amount of greenery. The lobby is magnificent yet welcoming, expansive but not imposing. The reception area is nestled between twin staircases ascending to a mezzanine that circles the grand ballroom to an expansive multi-leveled cafe in what was once the sanctuary. The gallery hallways that look down from the upper levels are lined with conference rooms, spas, gyms, and guest rooms, many with external balconies and all sumptuously appointed. The crypt chapel and part of the crypt proper have been converted to a matched club and lounge respectively which manage to convey a sense of almost scandalous intimacy despite their considerable size. The crown jewel of this ambitious architectural endeavor is the sprawling restaurant that spans the airy clerestory to spill out onto a crescent-shaped grand balcony with a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline across the East River, especially at sunset. Above this, the soaring bell tower remains a mystery to most guests beyond the lush conservatory in its base, and though the original bells have been restored, they are not currently in use. Lucien has not been here for this entire tour -- often, likely, does not need to show up for these things at all; his hotel manager is extremely thorough and extremely polished in this sort of thing. But for certain special-enough guests (important-enough guests? Certainly something about his manner seemed to imply that was the case) it is worth his while to make a personal appearance, and so it was that nearing the end of these logistics he has slipped in to ensure a touch of personal attention to any needs this upcoming conference might have. His manager is just slipping out, now, tablet filled with extensive notes, and Lucien -- neat and relatively simply today in a dark gray suit with lighter gray chalk stripes over a pale green shirt with a emerald green tie in floral arabesques that match the embossing on his black monk shoes -- is adding a last few errata to the list from his own tablet. He's not sitting but leaning against a table in one of the spacious conference rooms, framed in background by a sprawling view of the river and Manhattan beyond. "-- You've my email as well as hers, I imagine? Please do let us know if there are further changes. This could be quite a big moment for you, and we are very invested in helping it run smoothly." His (so special, so important!) guest is standing too, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out over Manhattan with an odd, hungry wistfulness. He's neatly put-together too, in pinstripes, a pink shirt and burgundy necktie, gold stitching in the detail, his black hair (strikingly thick, for his -- well, who can say how old he is anyway?) gelled into a perfect pompadour. "Yes, of course," says David, "much obliged. It -- should be --" perhaps this is too openly desirous. He doesn't finish the sentence. "I'm sure it will run quite smoothly. I've always been very impressed with this --" the wave of his hand at the conference room as he turns around, the very slight incline of his head, it has an appearance of obsequiousness but a feeling of dismissal, "-- place." He strides back to the conference table to his own notes -- in neat cursive in a leather-bound notebook, which David has doubtless been cursing all morning for not being a tablet -- to run one finger down his column of checkmarks. "I'll let you know," he says, "if I think of anything else. These people are," another one-handed gesture, another tilt of his head, a suggestion that this is a Very Funny Joke David is deigning to include Lucien in, "eccentric. You must know that... spectrum-y tech genius type." Was Damien invited to this meeting, of course not. That's fine, though, on a technicality it's probably fine -- the meeting is over, right? Anyway, he is costing in through the door as the hotel manager walks out, flitting over to Lucien's side in a swirl of ostentation -- today the ostentation is draped in a black velvet fencing cape lined in emerald green satin over long kurta of fine translucent pink muslin with matching churidar and black turn-down boots with gold hardware. There are copper bangles around his wrists, heat-treated in a rainbow of colors, and as he moves their quiet clinking sounds far more musical than should be possible -- a hint of faint, distant singing here and there in the gentle chimes. There is a look of great consternation on his face as he approaches Lucien: "-- why are you still in this meeting, I've been having an emergency for days --" that flickers, fades into bright intrigue as he takes note of David. "Oh! Is this a friend of yours, all the better." Lucien's expression is still and composed -- through David's gesture, through Damien's entrance. His fingers tighten against the tablet. "Eccentric," he murmurs, quiet, bland, acknowledging. "I have never much dabbled in the tech world. I will have to take your word for it." He is tucking his tablet against his chest, lifting a hand as if to stay any further encroachment of Damien's into their space. The brief and passing touch accentuates his even reply: "A client, actually," with an undercurrent of deep and discomfited displeasure that shivers briefly through his touch. "I am sure you needn't bother him with your -- emergency." David is taking in Damien's appearance -- his sudden appearance and his physical appearance -- with a very slight surprise, eyes flicking open wider. "Thespian emergency?" he's guessing, with open interest. He does at least attempt to look like he's not going to put his nose in, gathering up his notebook and the handsome engraved pen beside it, clicking it away with a satisfying tick. "Well, I've just about concluded business with your colleague, so don't let me keep you! He's done wonderfully by me so far -- don't you just adore this place? Prettiest spot in the city." He shuts his briefcase with another satisfying click. "Well!" he says again. "Off I go." He's still not actually leaving, though, now just fussing at his ruby-studded cufflinks. The small flutter of discomfort that leaks over only heightens Damien's intrigued scrutiny. "Oh! A work friend." His tone, extremely unsuited to the business of tech conferences, somehow implies that this is delightfully salacious news. "I do adore it, my son is excellent at cultivating a certain je ne sais quoi. Will you be staying at this hotel, then?" He has fetched up against the table at Lucien's not-quite-stymieing of his movements, the languid drape of his posture suggesting a lean though there's very little weight actually resting on the fingertips he's touched light to the tabletop. "Mmm." Lucien's eyes flit, brief, between Damien and David. A small twitch tugs at his mouth. "A conference shortly, actually. David has recently launched a new -- short-form social media, isn't it?" His brows lift just a touch on this question. "This one may have more promise," there's just the faintest touch of a conciliatory note here, "-- than his past ventures." There's a touch of diffidence in the small bow of his head, and in his addition: "My father is actually a good deal more connected in such circles than I am, I am sure he will appreciate the potential in this moment." "Oh, no, I live in Brooklyn," David is saying, like this is impressive and not something that 2.26 million other people also do. "I'm excited to bring everyone out to my neck of the woods! These are mostly Bay Area people, some international talent... a few friends from Austin, I'm still not sure how that happened..." he shrugs, rolls his eyes; for the first time this is just a forthrightly disrespectful gesture rather than a subtle one, like it is personally annoying to him that Austin has grown any amount of tech innovation. The sideways cut of his glance at Lucien at the mere mention of his past ventures is a little crabby, too, but David is not dwelling in the past but striding boldly into the future -- "Are you?" he says, with a quick up-down glance at Damien's attire, like he's struggling to make sense of it. He shakes his head quickly, lets the confusion ooze away, replaced by his usual bright-bright empty smile. "Are you an entrepreneur, then, or..." for a moment he seems to be waffling between 'international talent' and 'spectrum-y tech genius', before he simply says, "What a pleasure to meet you. I hope you will appreciate it -- I think it's quite a neat thing, you know -- none of that AI crap, just pure human interface and connection and -- well, clicks," his laugh at this is obviously inviting the others to laugh with him, but a little hollow all the same. "Oh! I spent a good bit of time in San Francisco not so long past." There's a pleased little lilt in Damien's tone that is not unlike laughter. He bows small to David -- "A pleasure, I'm sure." There's an idle roll of his wrist -- perhaps it's a meaningless gesture, perhaps his hand is tipping out toward David, but the small thrill of intimacy in his tone clearly encompasses the other men. "I'm in the business of fostering connections, really -- as are you, it seems. I do," he is saying this earnest and thoughtful, "have a strong appreciation for --" Now he is definitely turning his hand out elegantly toward David, "-- vision." "A bit of serendipity, perhaps." There's something gone just a little tighter in Lucien's expression, eyes skipping between David and Damien as though he is not entirely one-hundred-per-cent comfortable with this fortuitous meeting. Still, he marshals up a determinedly polite expression, somewhat dutifully (if just-a-touch-reluctantly) observing: "I don't know that there's still time to register another guest for your conference -- his investments have had a bit of a magic touch with quite a few other ventures -- though I imagine," this, slightly apologetic, to Damien, "-- you are terribly busy, I should mislike to presume too much of your time." "Oh? In the city proper, or...? I lived in San Mateo for a while," David is informing Damien, pressing his fingertips lightly, mock-humbly to his chest, "and then worked in Milpitas for another little while before I came up here, but Silicon Valley is so," he's wrinkling his nose, he's not finishing this. "I've always thought I've had vision -- it's luck I seem a bit short of," this trails into another laugh, simultaneously mirthless and bright, his eyes pressed not-quite-shut. "I'm sure all I would have to do is contact the hotel manager, no? I can always make room for another VC -- particularly one that comes so well-recommended." The glance aside at Lucien is not really asking permission, an unctuous glimmer of interest sparking again in his dark eyes. "-- isn't it so very," Damien is agreeing, with the kind of hush that suggests he oughtn't to be saying this but is anyway, "-- I don't regret my time there but I did not regret moving on to ply my trade abroad." There is another soft musical shimmer as he drops his hand, clasps both hands behind his back. "-- Really, good luck just takes a bit of engineering." His eyes are just a touch wider, here, a small thrill in his tone as though he himself is well pleased with the luck he's stumbling into. "I don't know quite what a touch of serendipity is worth to you," his head is inclining slight to David, "-- but I'm sure I could find a bit of time." The small tip of Lucien's head manages to convey that he is not entirely pleased about this last-minute addition but is, nevertheless, going to do his duty. It carries through in his mild voice, hinting at a restraint though not at what, precisely, he is restraining. "If you are quite sure, I will amend the guest list." David blinks -- "Worth to me?" he repeats back; surely it was him who was offering Damien the favor, here? -- but there's a sudden restlessness in the quickquick smoothing of his tie, the tilt of his head up at the others. With unusual honesty he is saying, "I've already spent my life looking for serendipity somewhere. What else do I have?" Damien is nodding along seriously at this. He unclasps his hands again; and a small roll of his wrist turns one hand upward. "Perhaps at the end of the day that is what makes a man of vision, no? An understanding that sometimes you have to give your life to truly secure your legacy." After an uncomfortable sideways glance at Luci, David gives Damien an indulgent, scoffy chuckle -- "Like van Gogh, huh? Dirty trick not getting to enjoy your own legacy. Will you want," this change of topic is quite seamless, "the vegan meal? I'll gladly comp your attendance, if you're interested. Oh! And I can introduce you to Elon." "I'm sure the vegan meal will be fine. -- Can you make such an introduction, goodness. How could I say no to such an offer, really --" Damien is also glancing sidelong to Lucien, though with far less discomfort and far more delight. "-- it's a deal."