Logs:Bogged
| Bogged | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2025-02-02 "Right scissors'll get you through just about anything." |
| Location
<NYC> A Backyard - Riverdale | |
In another time, this yard held chickens, a beautiful community garden, a firepit around which people gathered nightly for music or lively tales. The chickens are gone, the garden still here, though now it's carefully fenced off and tended (immaculately) by a team of paid landscapers. On Sniffspot, now, this place advertises itself as "Relaxing oasis for dogs and owners", touting the many amenities that keep humans in comfortable quiet privacy while their dogs play. In the gazebo, Lucien (seated on "exquisitely hand-crafted furniture made by a local woodworker!") does have the heating element on today -- it doesn't render the frigid wet day pleasant,but it does stave off the worst of the nighttime chill. The yard is an unpleasant mix of mud and slushy-ice from the daylong rainfall -- probably this is doing no favors for the grooming of the pups romping with each other in the muck, but the dogs don't seem to mind the mess their owners will later have to clean up. Likely the future mess was no surprise to Lucien at all when he set out on this miserable wet day, but he is still watching Flèche at play with a small pinch of lips as she goes down, tackled into the grass by her larger companion. With a very small sigh he shifts in his seat, turning away from helicopter-watching the dogs and letting his attention fall back to his other company. He is pulling his peacoat a little more snugly around him, fallen open when he turned to watch the dogs -- could he button it and keep it closed, yes, is he going to, no. "-- they are," he is picking up a thread of conversation idly from before interrupted himself by fretting over how to fit a grooming appointment into his schedule, "really missing the forest for the trees, on this one. This administration is so intensely focused on whipping up anti-mutant fervor they are going to be left in the dust by those with the sense to look beyond this planet." "Ohhhh well, things this bunch wanna do, not so sure that's a bad thing." Toni's rich voice is warm and amused in some contrast to the despair that characterizes so many when discussing Current Events these days. She's leaning back, her own thick sable coat wrapped warm around her, just a peek of her bold orange trousers underneath. She's holding a pink and green thermos in one hand, currently capped in between sips of her slightly boozy cocoa. "Feel like an in with SHIELD's Top Cop's gotta get you a bit ahead of the curve on some of this." "They are fairly myopic about many things, it is hardly a surprise they are making a hash of the alien question." Lucien's lament comes very, very dry, a fact only accentuated by his follow-up: "Can you imagine if this administration had been in power in May? They might well have nuked Manhattan just to stop the Brood." He is popping the lid of his thermos, at least, and taking a prim small sip of his tea. "Mmm. The U.N. is so very bogged down in bureaucracy it may well take them years to put together a subcommittee to investigate the potential benefits of convening an alien diplomacy task force. If Director Fury had hair I imagine he would be pulling it out all over again." "Isn't much surprise, nah, but it do leave a real big question mark." Toni's sharp nails click lightly at the outside of her thermos. She uncrosses her legs, recrossing them the other way as she absently traces a curly questionmark shape against the smooth steel. "Governments are a little more predictable --" Her mouth pulls thin into a grimace, and there's a darker laughter in her voice. "Usually. All this new magic on the black market, that's a powder keg. And we not even getting into to the interterrestrial relations field." Her brows lift. The twitch at the corner of her pink lips is knowing. "-- can cut through a looot of departmental paper-shuffling if you ain't even part of the department, though." "Most of what I've seen called magic is just technology we don't yet understand." Lucien is shifting again. He's angled back out toward the cold, watching Flèche chasing PointyBoy at full tilt across the muddy yard. He does not smile, but a subtle amusement has warmed his voice just a hint. "There are a good many tactics for getting around red tape," In the soft lantern-light that illuminates the gazebo his green eyes look oddly more luminous as he glances aside to Toni, "as I'm sure you well know." "Yeah, I sure do know the canard, but you gotta admit --" Toni shakes her head, whistling low and impressed. "Some that stuff floating around out there could fool a whole lotta people into thinking it's for real." Her smile returns, broad and easy. "What's law really, in the end, 'cept a whole lotta government red tape." She lifts her hand, making a quick snip-snip motion with her fingers. "Right scissors'll get you through just about anything." "The multiverse is so much bigger and vaster than we had imagined, I imagine some of it well might be." Lucien purses his lips, giving a sharp whistle that, at only a small moment of reluctant delay, pulls Flèche hurtling back towards him. She's prancing enthusiastic and muddy up into the gazebo, and he finds a slightly less filthy patch of her head to scritch as he clips her lead back on. "I shall leave teasing one from the other to the nerds at S.H.I.E.L.D. Whether magic or unfathomably advanced technology, I'd strongly prefer we be on the right side of the creatures brandishing it at us." "Chile you gotta put me in touch with your trainer." Toni's own whistle -- then clap -- then actually calling the dog's name -- has entirely failed to bring PointyBoy back to her. With a deep sigh she is getting up, picking up her own leash in optimistic hope of retrieving the dog, who looks very ready to turn this enterprise into a game of chase. "Wrangling City Hall, no problem. Wrangling the little monsters in my life --" Her head-shake here would probably be exasperated any day, but in the freezing-slushy-muddy yard, only moreso. Still, she's picking her way carefully out into the grass, only offering as she goes: "It's probably not our number one priority, but if some alien out there got the magic button for getting kids and dogs to listen, sign me up." | |
