Logs:Doubt and Dread

Doubt and Dread
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Matt
In Absentia	2019-12-11 "Well, Flèche gets so lonely."
Location <PRV> VL 403 {Geekhaus} - East Village
This apartment has been undergoing a slow transformation, this fall. Its eclectic assortment of curb-shopped furniture is slowly getting swapped out, one piece at a time, for new and upgraded items. Sturdy, elegantly worked, the solid craftsmanship and intricate geometric patterning of polished mosaic-wood surfaces tell clearly of Flicker's labor -- a new low and wide coffee table in the living room, a few coordinated but not-identical chairs at the kitchen table (two of them, modular with low scooped backs, designed more with winged bodies in mind.) It's not quite suppertime--and also not quite hockey time--but Matt is ready, parked on the couch, legs curled up beneath himself, with a tray of poutine that he's barely touched and a mug of tea he's almost finished. He's still in his work clothes, a pale lilac dress shirt and gray linen vest with matching trousers, all quite rumpled from a long day that has also left his hair a wind-blown mess. He's reading the rulebook for a board game he's opened and rifled through ("Bemused" reads the title above a mystical-looking woman with a wealth of curly red hair). Flicker flits back into the living room, a pair of mugs in hand. He sets them down on colorful glass coasters on the table, creamy cinnamon-flecked eggnog in each. He nudges one of the mugs nearer to Matt, dropping down to sit on the couch with his own drink held close. His clothes aren't nearly as natty as Matt's but they are a good deal more kempt, neatly pressed khakis and button-down, a soft fawn sweater vest. "That one benefits a lot from really getting into character." He's tucking himself against Matt's side, head resting on the other man's shoulder as he peers over at the rules as well. "It's just not the same to only say 'oh, I'm playing this doubt card on the actor'. Much better to lay it out there with a, 'It's often been said that everything happens for a reason -- though the audience might wonder if that's true of the two uninspiring hours they just spent at the Marquis Theatre. Not a total loss, however: that brief stretch of torment does, at least, do its part to make all other Broadway shows look good in comparison.'" Though he's only just got comfortable he's sitting right back up again, his eyes wider and his cheeks flushing dark. "I mean -- not that I'd ever -- that was just an example, I didn't actually mean --" "Ah, merci!" Matt sets his food aside and drains the last of his tea, picking up his eggnog instead. "Mmm." His eyebrows raise up at Flicker's example, and he takes a slow sip of his eggnog, the mug hiding the smile he's attempting to hold back but not the mischief in his bright green eyes. "All's fair if Luci decides to play this game, but I'll make sure he's forewarned. It looks rather delightful, but probably we ought to watch ourselves, if we're playing with a less cutthroat crowd, no?" He settles against Flicker now, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "I'm game, anyhow. I mean--not tonight, but..." Another sip. "Actually, I could be tempted to skip the Habs game for one of our own." "He just -- you were right here so he was the first person I -- he really is spectacular, though, I didn't --" Flicker's blush isn't fading, but his stammering, at least, does. He curls his arm around Matt's shoulders, taking a sip from his own mug. "I don't know how many people will actually show up." He doesn't do an excellent job of keeping the anxiety out of his voice. "It's been so long, and I haven't exactly been..." His head shakes. "Probably better if people skip it, though, it had kind of gotten too big for this apartment." His fingers squeeze gently at Matt's shoulder. "We could get really crazy and put the game on while we play something." "I know," Matt says, his voice soothing and maybe just a little glib. "If I didn't know, I'd have definitely bitten your head off." He sighs low, subsiding beneath Flicker's arm. "Hard to say. I think there's plenty who are jonsing as bad as I am. Or just...glad for anything that feels remotely like normalcy again." He twists around slightly so he can aim an appraising eye at Flicker. "Doesn't have to be here. Our house is--well, farther, obviously, but also. A house. Though maybe I shouldn't volunteer to host until I'm sure I'll...be able to host." His gaze drops to the game again, then the TV. "Hockey and board games? What madness is this?" Though for all that he sounds rather excited about the prospect. "What was our 'normal' even like?" Flicker breathes out slow. His fingers tighten against Matt's shoulder, a quick ripple of tension passing through him. His eyes drop to Matt -- then skate away, around the small apartment. Back to Matt, studying his friend thoughtfully. "Your house is bigger. I can handle setup. I mean -- it's not farther for you." He tucks his mug between his knees. Doesn't lean foward -- his arm extends itself, hand semi-detaching to snake briefly outward and snag the remote so that he can switch the television on. "You know me, I like to live dangerously." "Getting together to play some games every week or so, I think," Matt replies gently, leaning into Flicker just a little harder. "It would be nice, not having to go anywhere, if..." He sighs, shaking his head slow. "Well, Flèche gets so lonely." The shadow over his mood seems to face as quickly as it came, and his smile is bright and fey when Flicker retrieves the remote. "You and the Senators alike, my friend--but I'm sure we both came to this well versed in doubt and dread." "Yeah." Flicker's reply is quiet, his cheek pressing to the top of Matt's head. "We can bring the gaming to you. It would be nice to have the extra space. And oh! Luci makes such good cider." He flicks through until he brings the game up -- or what will be the game, at least, muting it for now while a pair of sports announcers prattle on about their predictions. "The Senators should be doubting, the Canadiens seem to be on a roll. Let's just hope it lasts."