Logs:Expectations

Expectations
Dramatis Personae Jax, Lucien, Steve, Flèche, Sugar	2021-11-07 "If this is some kinda endurance test gosh do I got bad news for you then 'bout who's sittin' right there."
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Backyard - Greenwich Village
Living in the heart of Manhattan means space is precious, and as such, the yard behind this house is small. It is as exquisitely well-kept as the rest of the place, though; all available space has been meticulously cultivated and transformed into a lush retreat from the concrete and asphalt of the city. The borders of the garden are lined in a wealth of flowers, the selection chosen to provide a panoply of color in all seasons save winter. A grassy rock-bordered pathway separates these from the raised-bed vegetable garden that dominates its center. The far left corner of the garden plays host to a tiny rock-lined pond, goldfish and a pair of turtles living in its burbling water. To one side of the pond is a garden table and set of chairs and presiding over the pond, a large oak tree with a hammock underneath, its branches spreading out over the tall brick wall that screens the entire area off from the city outside. November tried cold and rainy on for size, then decided it wasn't time for that just yet. It's a sunny, mild autumn day, enough to revive the hardy flowers and herbs that complement the red foliage of the old oak tree. An immense murmuration of starlings has been swirling and banking and generally making a spectacle over the neighborhood. Flèche has settled down under the table with a rope toy tucked daintily between her crossed front paws, though she is utterly ruining her elegant presentation by chomping down on said rope toy with gleeful abandon, head cocked hard to one side and mouth comically wide as she jaws one of the knots. Steve had been watching the most recent pass of the starlings' impressive aerial maneuvers, but returns his attention now to his host and his tea. "You've got a better finger on the pulse of the theatre world -- past or present -- than I do, but it just felt...relevant to the times?" He's dressed comfortably in a blue-and-green plaid flannel, the top button undone, and old, worn-in blue jeans. His shield, leaning on the chair in which he sits, is still in Halloween mode, the star replaced by a jack-o-lantern in a black field, ringed with purple and orange circles. "Though I get the impression most contemporary folks don't think all this --" One hand waves vaguely out at the world in general. " -- is on par with the first Great Depression." Lucien has made himself comfortable as well, since work, casual in jeans and a soft blue long-sleeved henley. His hands are cupped around his tea, eyes turned up toward the birds that have gathered on his wall and in the branches of the oak tree. "Well. We have -- robots. The internet. Hoverboards. How bad could things be, really. Surely," he tells Steve, earnest, "it cannot be a depression with hoverboards." His wrist rolls languidly, tea swirling in his cup. "-- but then as now, I think, the themes ring much the same. At least, I do indulge myself the notion that we provide something these times do need." There's a bright flash of blue in the sky overhead, a metallic glint, a sudden raucous flutter as the murmuration is set into chaos once more. A sleek long shape swoops down from above, resolves itself as it nears into Sugar; the huge dragonfly has one of the starlings between her mandibles, crunching the bird up whole as she lands. Upon her back Jax is as bright as his steed, vivid in brightly venus-fly-trap printed overalls cuffed to the ankles above chunky rainbowy sneakers, black long-sleeved crop top swirled with rainbow paint-splatter design, peacocky green-blue-purple ombre hair; metallic blue goggles that he hasn't bothered to remove as he hops down off of Sugar's saddle. He's dropping a Tupperware (full of lemon bar cookies) onto the table, dropping a kiss to the top of Luci's head, lifting a hand to touch the brim of -- well, there wasn't a hat there but suddenly there is, a large black and rainbow straw one that he tips to Steve just before it vanishes -- all before offering lightly with a squeeze to Lucien's shoulder, "-- sorry, honey-honey, didn't know you had company -- I can come back. The cookies is fresh, though, you should eat 'em." Maybe it's a credit to Steve's nerves that he does not immediately snatch up his shield or tackle Luci into cover when the giant dragonfly stoops toward them. Or maybe his hypervigilance is just not on point today. Either way, he only give a small start before blushing and settling back down -- though not without darting a glance at Sugar's cronchy, feathery snack. "Hey." Being hatless, he just tips his head by way of greeting. "Please don't mind me -- or, if you'd rather..." He does not seem to actually know where this sentence is going, and glances at Lucien in lieu of finishing it, his smile slightly embarrassed. "Well, I sure don't aim to be a bother, or to monopolize what little leisure you've got these days. God knows I take up enough of your time on the clock." "Please." Lucien lifts his hand to rest atop Jax's lightly; a faint flutter of warmth answers the small squeeze. "I have plenty of tea. We have plenty of --" He glances briefly in Sugar's direction with a small press of lips. "Starlings. Sit. I'll fetch another cup. I feel quite certain you could use the rest." This isn't exactly stern, but he is nudging a chair out for Jackson all the same as he gets up to slip back inside. "Oh --" Jax's eye widens behind his goggles -- for a second it looks like he might protest something, but then Lucien is away and he does not. Just blushes, deep, his head bowing as he drops into the chair that's been offered him. "Oh, gosh." His hand scrubs through his hair, then drops to his lap. He fidgets restlessly with the one strap of his overalls that's hanging off his shoulder, offers Steve a small smile. "Sorry to intrude on your tea I just -- Luci's been havin' a hard time and I didn't -- gosh. How you been, honey-honey?" Steve starts to push out of his chair at "plenty of tea", but Lucien's entertaining skills are always on point and he settles back down. Again. He looks into his half-drained mug, then sets it down. Eyes the cookies with interest, but does not make a move on them just yet. "Please, you're not intruding. Your entrance is just -- bit more dramatic than most. Not that I'm complaining." He addresses this hasty qualification somewhat in Sugar's direction. His eyes skip back to Jax, thoughtful. "Been better." His head bows slightly. "Been way worse, too. Haven't been as attentive to him as I should." He glances back at the kitchen door, his lips compressing. "Or anyone else, if I'm honest." His right hand curls, then relaxes before closing fully. "How're you doing?" Lucien emerges from his house with another cup on a small saucer, which he sets down in front of Jackson so that he can pour a cup of oolong for his newest guest. He does take the cookies, after this, prising open the Tupperware so that he can pluck one of the lemon bars out, and slide the container across to Steve. His eyes flick between Jax's fidgeting fingers, deep blush -- over to Steve -- back down. His own lips compress slightly, his brows pinching. He says nothing, but nibbles at the cookie, a hand cupped beneath in case of stray crumbs. "He can be kinda slippery with the attention. I just dog him so he can't wriggle outta some love once in a while but I don't think that works for everyone." Jax is still fidgeting with the strap of his overalls after Luci arrives with the tea, though he finally drops it so that he can pick up the mug. "Yeah, Sugar is a little --" He glances back to the dragonfly. "Eye-catchin'. -- Thanks." He lifts the cup appreciatively when Luci fills it. Takes a small sip. Rocks back slightly in the chair, finally flipping the goggles up to the top of his head. "Oh -- it's -- um -- a bit busy, I guess." He tracks the motion of Steve's curling hand, his teeth catching briefly at a lip ring. "That heal up aright in the end?" Steve smiles more easily this time, if a little wistful. "No, it surely don't. I might take a lesson from you, though." He perks up when their host returns and breaks open the cookies, eagerly snagging one -- with his left hand. But it's Jax he looks at. "Not just Sugar, but from the air..." He glances between the man and his dragonfly. "I reckon it's mostly her doing the catching of eyes. Among other things." He takes an appreciative bite of his lemon bar and washes it down with a sip of tea. "Was about to say I can imagine, but that's probably not true. Your generation seems to average three jobs per person, and you fellas are anything but average. Hope it's not busy in a bad way." He blinks at Jax, momentarily uncomprehending. Then follows his glance down to his right hand. "Oh! Yes, it's good as new." His small huff is not quite a laugh. "What are you teaching him, exactly?" Lucien has only caught the tail end of this conversation. He's still watching the others with a somewhat intense scrutinization that does not ease when he pronounces solemnly: "These are delicious. -- Do you know, I saw an article the other day trying to pass that tendency off as something new and hip that Milennials and younger do. Trendy. Like it happens out of choice and not necessity. Polywork. We like not to be tied down to one career. Keep our options open." "The proper care an' handlin' of Lucien Tessiers," Jax replies cheerfully. "You don't make it always easy, y'know. There's an art to it. -- Gosh, you mean like we all work three jobs an' four side hustles cuz we love the excitement an' not cuz won't none of 'em pay us enough to live on? I hope someone pukes on that writer's favorite shoes." He takes another swallow of his tea, another small flush creeping up his cheeks at the compliment to his baking. "Doin' me a favor, to be honest; I been stress baking all day an' there's only so many places I can offload 'em." He sets the cup down half-finished, his leg bobbing restlessly beneath the table. "Good. Good, yeah, Joshua's -- Joshua's reliable like that. Good." "Apparently, I have to wear you down." Steve tips his cup toward Luci. "If you're willing to volunteer any tips and tricks, I'm all ears." He only blinks, at first, at the description of the "polywork" thinkpiece. Slowly arches one eyebrow. Then the other. "That sounds like a creative rehash of the whole notion that workers are happy to be exploited out of boundless love and admiration for the bosses." He takes another bite of the cookie and gestures nods his agreement to Luci's assessment. Drains his tea. "I would gladly take some baked goods off your hands -- out of the goodness of my heart, of course." Though now he frowns again. Eyes darting to Luci, then back to Jax. "Are you -- I mean, I'm sure there's no shortage of stress just being too busy, but...is something the matter?" "Mmm. The trick is to be an artist, it appears." A wisp of smile curls its way briefly across Lucien's lips, half-hidden behind his cup as he sips at his tea. "Though I ought warn you I do not wear easily. I may hardly be Captain America, but I do have quite a bit of stamina." His eyes flick to Jax at Steve's question. One brow ticks upward fractionally. "Past his, ah, polywork, you mean?" "If this is some kinda endurance test gosh do I got bad news for you then 'bout who's sittin' right there." Jax plants his foot, its jittery bouncing settling into stillness. "I got six jobs an' I do get tired, thankyouverymuch. Can't all of us at this table be Cap." Though for a brief moment the design on his bright overalls is changing to a repeating star-emblazoned shield motif before it winks back into the vivid venus flytrap pattern. "Oh gosh, sorry, m'fine, my brain just takes a second to catch up when things is --" His hand flutters vaguely at the air in front of him. "Unexpected people, Daylight Savings, someone rearranged the paints at Chimaera once last month an' I still ain't recovered. -- How do you feel about pecan bars?" he's asking Steve, "because those are the only lemon I got on me but if you are a fan boy do Sugar an' I have a treat for you." "Guess I'd better get back to my WIPs." Steve pauses in the middle of lifting his cookie for another bite and clarifies, "W-I-Ps...which was ah, probably obvious from context." His blush is mild and fleeting. "I do not doubt your stamina, friend, but I think some folks are maybe expecting you to be Captain America a bit more literally than is really fair, however well you may play me." He frowns, looking down at his festive shield. "Well, not me exactly. But really, people expect a lot of you both, because you give so much and ask so little. Not," he adds sheepishly, "to say it's going to stop me from enthusiastically accepting your treats. I'll do my best to leave a few for Sam." Lucien's tongue tsks lightly against the back of his teeth, his eyes sweeping over Jax and then downward. "I am hardly the only one who requires some hounding, it seems." He takes another small nibble of his lemon square, letting his eyes fall closed as he washes it down with a sip of tea. "And please. Read any article about me, I'm very demanding. If I were a woman they would say all sorts of terrible things but as it is I get away with being called exacting. High standards. I ask quite a lot of quite a number of people. If, in return, I must be held to high standards as well --" His hand tips upward, fingers turning outward. "It is only fair, no?" "Oh, we gon' talk about what part of how they treating you is fair? Cuz I know I shouldn't pay Twitter or the gossip rags no mind but I do and gosh the things people been sayin' there I don't think fair enters into it, sugar, it's just a big heaping muddle'a bigotries all mashed up together." Some of the venus flytraps on Jax's overalls are snapping shut on the hapless insects within their grasps. He gets up, head shaking, to wander over to Sugar, open up a saddlebag and get out another Tupperware. "Now I can fly over an' leave this at your house proper if you worried you won't do right by Sam," he cautions, a bubble of shield doming itself over the tupperware as he sets it down on the table. Steve looks back and forth between the other men, brows hiking up slightly. "This feels like an extremely intricate dance of dodging concern. I am sorry to have in some way added to both your polystress CVs." Though now his eyes widen slightly at Jax. "I don't mean that I rearranged the paints, just that I -- was an unexpected person." He presses his fingertips against the transparent iridescent dome. "And yet you still have cookies for me. I promise I will not eat them all." He draws an X over his left breast with the tip of an index finger, then looks over at Luci, his smile going taut. "Fame always puts you under a microscope, but folks wouldn't be attacking you like this if they weren't so fixated on me being perfect." His head shakes, quick. "Don't think that's fair at all." "Mmm." Lucien's eyes stay closed for a moment, his hand dropping to trace the edge of his saucer. "You seem to have dealt with those expectations adroitly enough. At least, it has been some time since you have punched any paparazzo." His brows pinch very slightly inward. "A strategy that I do not expect would work in my favor." The shield shimmers, a deeper iridescence rippling out from where Steve's fingers touch like pebbles dropped into a pond; a moment later it melts away entirely, freeing up the cookies for the taking. "Crossed your heart an' all." Jax rocks back in his seat again, hands folding against his stomach, and looks to Lucien with pierced brows hiking high. "It surely wouldn't but I would pay to see that all the same. You could stand to lose your cool a little more. Maybe not," he allows, "in front of cameras an' all but like. Don't you ever jus' want to smash somethin'? Yell? Punch somethin' real hard? Bonus, it'd be great for gettin' you in character." "I'm good for it." Steve scoops the container of pecan bars to his side of the table. "But, really -- thank you." He looks at Luci, the quirk of his brow both critical and fond. "You dealt with those expectations for me. You dealt with them well enough I can get away with punching paparazzi. You dealt with them so well that no matter how I defend you, your detractors praise my generosity and go on abusing you, as though you hadn't taken me off the street into your home when you didn't know me from Adam's off ox." His hands fold over top of the tupperware container. "If tarnishing my image would help you, I can find myself a scandal just like that. Or, if you need to punch someone without reading it in the Post, we can go at it anytime and I'll never tell." Lucien's breath catches, his eye cracking open to look at Jackson and his finger pressing down where it's been tracing the rim of his saucer. "I suppose occasionally some catharsis might be gratifying." It's a moment before it resumes its languid circles, eyes now fixed on his cup. "Oh," comes softly, "you're -- very kind." "He's worked real hard on that image though, be a shame to muck up his own handiwork." Jax is stretching, getting up from his seat once more. "That other thing, though, well I'd like to see that too. Even if it'd hardly be a fair fight." But now he's squeezing Luci's shoulder, nodding to Steve, flipping his goggles back into place. "-- rest of these cookies won't deliver themselves, though. Y'all take care, now." And he's taking himself off back to get easily back into Sugar's saddle. "That's really the main reason I try to avoid scandals, but I'm flexible. And I've got a bit of experience with unfair fights. I'll only go as easy on you as you want." Steve sounds very casual here, though no less sincere. He returns Jax's nod. "Good to see you! And ah, fly safe." His eyes track back to Luci, stuttering for a moment on the pale icy blue of the other man's eyes as he still does from time to time. "I can't always tell with you..." He blushes and runs a hand through his hair. Tries a different tack. "Don't know if it's the kind of catharsis you want or need, but for what it's worth I meant it, about the punching. But, just to be clear," he adds, refilling both their cups, "I'm up for more than just sparring, drinking your tea, and snarking on Twitter." Lucien lifts his tea in a small salute to Jackson as the other man leaves. "Goodness. I'm the main reason you try to avoid scandals? I really don't know whether I ought to be flattered or recommend you a therapist." He takes a small sip of his freshened tea, his mouth twitching up into a semblance of a smile. "Please. You have seen the workout I get eight shows a week. I'm up for tea, and perhaps if I am feeling bold, a short stroll around the neighborhood with Flèche. I will take my catharsis vicariously."