Logs:Castle

Castle
Dramatis Personae Kate, Lucien, Matt, Sam	2020-11-01 "Who's the we."
Location <NYC> AU!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. It's a dreary, rainy night outside, but the house on Waverly Place is warm and cozy and smells divine, even if Matt is only heating up food already prepared as always in anticipation of hungry guests. He's humming tunelessly while he works, dressed in a pale green button-down with darker green pinstripes, tweed trousers, and over it all a black apron with the word "Drama" in elaborate script over the image of a white chess piece--a queen, naturally. He sweeps out into the living room with a covered plate, a glass of water, and another of white wine on a tray. "I do so apologize for the wait, but supper is served!" He lays the tray before Kate and whips the cover from the plate with an elegant turn of his wrist to reveal the lemon garlic chicken and savory herbed orzo with roasted broccolini, its fragrance wafting up to great effect. His smile is bright and solicitous. "Your wine this evening is a delicate Sauvignon Blanc from Le Domaine Saget Pouilly-Fume. Is there anything else I can get for you?" Lucien is just descending from upstairs; today he looks considerably more casual than his brother, in well-tailored jeans and a soft green long-sleeved henley, a tablet tucked under one arm. "Goodness," he's murmuring, quiet, as he slips into the living room, "but you make leftovers sound so elegant." He eyes the plate, lips twitching faintly. "Perhaps," so-very-mild, so-lightly-amused, "some silverware." He's already melting back into the kitchen, a quiet metal clink following his disappearance. Kate laughs at the presentation and then again at Lucien’s interjection, grinning widely at the pair of them. “Well, between the two of you, I think my needs are well taken care of.” She straightens up to a seated position on the couch where she was lounging. She’s wearing a blue collared blouse and black leggings, with all blacks folded neatly on the floor beside the couch with her pack. Those are stained, slightly, with blood and dirt, but Kate’s face is freshly clean. Her curls are still tight from her recent shower, air drying still slightly. “Thank you,” she says quietly to Matt, eyes wide at the displayed food and drink. While she waits for Luci to return with cutlery, her hand curls around the stem of the wine glass. Under her breath, she is muttering blessings - “…borei p'ri hagafen. Baruch atah Adonai…” Into this pleasantly domestic scene comes a muffled heavy THUMP outside. A string of quiet curses, soon followed by a rapid and decisive KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK on the back garden door. Outside, Captain America smells like smoke, muddy wet soot still clinging to his dark clothing, the large mechanical wings folding up behind him, the starred shield on his arm. The flush in Sam's face can't easily be seen in the darkness, but the quickness of his breathing is easy enough to hear. Matt covers his guffaw with one hand. "Oh, no! I just got so excited about the wine," he confesses. "You didn't really need silverware, did you? I might join you for a glass." He calls out to his brother, "Luci, would you be a dear and bring me--" At he knock he freezes, though only for an instant. Then he's at Kate's side. "You can drop down into the basement if need be," his voice is low and completely calm, "it's secure." Meanwhile his power snakes out and latches onto his brother's, pushing its range out far enough to reach the back door. The kitchen door, regrettably, obscures the view from the living room -- though Matt can feel the tension that slips across Lucien's mind and then eases away again after he opens the door. "-- Sam." He's pulling it wider, gesturing the other man inside with a waggle of cutlery (wrapped neatly in a green cloth napkin), with only a mild disapproving press of lips at the wet soot-drip as he locks it again. "Where is your small shadow?" He trails back to the living room to offer Kate the silverware, his casual posture likely its own announcement even before his assurance: "It is only the Captain." She has just finished the blessing over the meal when the knock comes. Even before Matt has given her permission Kate is moving, swinging herself over the sofa’s arm and scooping her dirty clothes and pack into one arm. The other is solid against the living rooms rug - the rest of Kate is sinking into the floor, just the arm and head hanging up over the surface like she’s holding onto the side of a pool. Her breath is held, waiting, then Luci’s announcement comes. “Oh, lovely.” With practiced ease the pack and clothes and Kate all rise up from the floor, much like if there was an elevator beneath her feet. She takes the silverware from Luci, her face showing no sign of her previous panic. Her eyes narrow slightly when she catches sigh of Sam. “Hello, Captain.” Sam does, at least, shed his wet and dirty boots by the door. Unfortunately for Lucien's floors, that doesn't entirely stop the dripping; shield and wings both are speckling a small splat-splat-splat of greying water. "Holed up with a trio of kids been living up East Harlem way till a raid this evening." He's flipping his goggles up into damp hair, a small frown written into his brow. "She can keep the bots away for now, but we gonna need transport for all them outta town." His chin lifts to Kate as he follows Lucien into the living room, eyes skipping from Kate back to Lucien with only a subtle tensing in his shoulders. "Hello... friend of Matt?" Matt's posture relaxes the moment he senses Lucien's ease, though he doesn't try to rush Kate back up, nor does he immediately release the hold of his power. He steps out into the hallway and returns shortly with a towel for Sam. "Sam, this is Kate. Kate, Sam." He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Four, yes? If you need them moved immediately we can get a car, of course, but it'll be safer by far to wait until we can hail a teleporter." His vivid green eyes flick appraisingly over Sam. His voice is gentler when he adds, "Are you tarrying long? You ought to get out of those clothes and have a bite to eat, if you've time." "Have they any destination in mind?" Lucien is meandering back toward the kitchen at Matt's offer of food, though he doesn't yet leave the room; just pauses by the doorway, leaning up against the wall with arms crossing loose. "Will they need supplies? We have --" A moment of hesitation, a quick flick of his eyes toward the basement door. "Plenty may be overstating the case at this exact moment, but -- certainly more capacity to restock." One of his hands unfurls, tipping out gracefully toward Kate. "If their current spot is safe, Kate and her companion will be heading north tomorrow. I -- believe," with a questioning lift of brows to Kate, "they ought have room for a few more." Kate is also tense as Matt makes the introductions, her acknowledgement of Sam at first contained to a tight nod and short “Yes”. She relaxes slightly, but only slightly, at the mention of the situation in Harlem. She nods as Lucien points to her. “We can fit them.” She doesn’t sit down, but Kate does reach for her wine glass and takes a small sip. “If they’re physical, it’ll be a little more uncomfortable, but we’ve done the border run before with more.” Her brow furrows slightly. “Less guaranteed than a teleport, but we’re here now.” Another pause - “How much time do you think they have, where they are?” "Anywhere but here." Sam lifts a hand, rubbing his palm slowly against his beard. "Might be a bit tough on one with his, ah, limb configuration, but --" His head waggles side to side, and he takes the towel from Matt, leaving dark smudges on it where he wipes it over his face. "Less tough than facing the Sentinels down again." His lips compress thin, hands wringing at the towel. "Should be good until sunup, but I wouldn't want to push it too much more. Bots are easier to throw off than nosy people." His eyes narrow, very slightly. "Who's the we." "I'll be sorry to see her go, but glad she's going to relative safety." Matt drifts over to a chess board that had been left mid-game between the couch and the green armchair. Hardly looks at the pieces before he moves a black rook decisively out through where some earlier slaughter had broken through the line of pawns, into the center of the board where it radiates menace. "I have it on extremely good authority he is trustworthy and competent," he replies, eyes fixed for just a moment on Sam's shield. "But it perhaps speaks louder that he's been running with Kate quite some time now and she is still free and in one piece. These are capable people." Lucien's eyes drift to Sam's shield, then up to his face. "She'll be back." Though quiet, he sounds sure all the same; a faint twist pulls briefly down at his lips. "We were serious about the supper, you know. I can heat more chicken." His brows are slowly knitting, forefinger and thumb rubbing slowly at the fabric of his opposite shirt sleeve. "I presume the two of you will be returning again, after you have crossed?" Perhaps this is a familiar enough enterprise as to make this a rhetorical question; at any rate he isn't waiting for answer. "I think with your collective aptitudes, and available transportation -- I might have an extra stop you ought take." “Then we’ll grab ‘em at dawn.” Kitty says this with a determined finality. If her eyes, too, have flickered over Sam’s shield, it’s just a quick, darting glance. “He’s a good man. A good soldier.” Her lips press together, nodding with Matt’s assessment. A corner of her mouth twitches up into a wry smile. “I don’t know. Maybe this time we’ll retire.” She doesn’t sound serious as she finally sinks back onto the couch, back leaned up against the arm. One eyebrow shoots up. “Where you thinking?” Kate asks. She reaches for her pack, pulls out a burner phone and a battery. “How many?” "She'll be back." Sam sounds heavy with this acknowledgement. He considers Matt and Kate's assertion through a long moment and then a small nod. "I can work with that. What's the rundown?" Right after he's straightening, offering Lucien an apologetic wince as he looks down at the small and dirty puddle he's standing in. Then frowns down at the soiled towel in his hands. "Oughtta taken you up on that, and the shower." Matt glances at the chess board--longer now than he did when he moved the piece. Allows a noncommittal "Mmm," and then, all pensiveness fled at once, his eyes lift keen and focused to Kate. "It's a lab. Can't say exactly how many, but it's an older one, smaller. Likely no more than twenty." His gaze snaps to Sam. "Do go on, get rinsed and changed." He tugs the towel from their guest's hand. "I'll fetch you another. We can talk details over food, no?"