Logs:Faith
| Faith | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2023-08-22 "{I know it's a lot to ask, and I don't do so lightly.}" |
| 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. It's a balmy night with a pleasant breeze, the sky stunningly clear for New York City in August. The neighborhood is quiet at this hour, and Matt is quiet, too, where he's ensconced in his usual preferred chair. He's wearing a white tee shirt with a large red filigree heart bracketed by ornate capital A's in Ace of Hearts fashion and black pajama pants dotted with much smaller red hearts. One the table there's an empty mug, empty dessert plate, and a small stack of books (The Last Days of the Incas, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World, Ashoka and the Maurya Dynasty and, perhaps a little incongruously, The Dhammapada). His work computer is there as well, its screen displaying the school's crest that indicates it has locked itself, and perhaps not likely to receive very much more work tonight, given it's been pushed aside in favor of an old rosewood box out of which Matt is casually packing a bowl of marijuana. The dog has been drowsing at his feet for some time, but now she stirs awake and thumps her tail emphatically, turning her pointy muzzle toward the back door. Unsurprisingly, the door is shortly opening. Lucien is still dressed from wherever he's just gotten in from, expertly tailored light gray linen suit and pale blue loose-weave dress shirt, though his shoes and tie have been shed somewhere between the front door and back one. He's swiping out an email as he crosses the yard, his warm: "{Oh, there you are, --}" very decidedly gushed for the dog as he drops to a crouch to deliver her many scritches. "Who is the sweetest darling to ever have darlinged, {truly an exemplar among dogs} just look," only here is he turning a solemn look up towards Matt, "at how pointy a nose she's grown. {And the elegant pattern of her coat! A fashionista to outshine us all.}" Matt's power curls out lazily, and though the habitual gesture is at least nominally meant to feel out whether Lucien's frequently-overworked mind needs assistance, his own is pretty profoundly exhausted, as well. Still, he obligingly looks at how pointy a nose Flèche has grown, and nods his very solemn agreement. "Mm, and she's pulled it off under our noses! As clever a darling as she is sweet. As devious as she is elegant." He tsks quietly. "Ah, well. {There's nothing for it. We'll simply have to eat her up. Those ears look a promising place to start.} Just the right balance of pointy and floppy." With a flourish of his hand he magnanimously cedes said ears to his brother first and lights up instead. "{Have you eaten?}" is light and off-handed, after he exhales. Lucien is bonking his forehead lightly against the top of Flèche's head, patting thumpily at her side. He does very delicately nibble on the end of one of her ears at Matt's suggestion. He looks back up with a lift of eyebrows. A gesture to the dog, indicatively: see? eating. When he straightens, it's with a mildly exasperated sputter, plucking briefly at the tip of his tongue. "{-- Rudely, this dog put some of her fur in my mouth. I do not know how that could have happened.}" "{See?}" Matt indicates the offending dog with a gracefully upturned hand. "Devious. {You may need some other snack yet.}" He considers his mug and plate thoughtfully. "{So might I, when I'm done with this. And maybe a drink.}" He hits the pipe again and offers it to Lucien. "{If you've a moment, though...}" There's something uncharacteristically hesitant in his pause, his expression very nearly blank but his mind roiling heavy. At least it's roiling, now. "{I've a pretty big favor to ask.}" Lucien waves away the offer, and has been starting to get to his feet. At Matt's hesitant overture, though, he shifts --resting a hand on the back of one of the other patio chairs, pulling it slightly out, though he does not yet sit. His head tilts slight and inquisitive to one side, a deliberately shift in the busy landscape of his mind quietly making some room for a better attentiveness. Matt's eyes follow the movement of Lucien's hand and then lingers where it does. The brief turmoil in him subsides into its now more accustomed flatness. "{I don't even know if you can help. Gods know I'd have asked before now if I thought...}" He sighs, digging his knuckle hard into his left temple as if he could get at the steady ache there. "{It's Hive. He's going under the knife, and frankly there's little predicting his outcome--there's no real precedence.}" The hand turns a small half-shrug, then drops back down to the table. "{But you have a lot of experience with neurological rehabilitation, and with his particular nervous system, in all its naturally and unnaturally fucked-up glory. It might make a difference.}" Lucien's brows hitch minutely, and the intricate buzz of his neural landscape does not shift again. "When is his surgery? I am sure I can make some time to look in on him -- before? after? Do they know quite what is wrong?" "It's not been scheduled yet. Rasheed still needs to assess and consult with the rest of the team, but hopefully that won't take long." Matt takes a deep draw and sets the pipe down. His hand is shaking, just a little. "{I think where you'll benefit him most is after, but it's likely best if you get a sense of his newer, shittier baseline before, as well.}" He runs a hand through his already unruly hair, badly in need of a trim. "{If I go with you, most of his treatment team will be none the wiser you're there for anything but moral support. The thing of it is, Chaz is going to be pretty involved throughout. I'm not sure it'll be possible to keep it from him.}" Something flickers sharp and tense across Lucien's mind as Matt speaks. His eyes lower, fixing down on the dog where she has flopped closer to lie her head on his foot. His fingers drum slow against the back of the chair, a faint tightness creasing the corners of his eyes. "No." Matt does not react immediately in any sensible way. Perhaps he is not surprised, but either way his voice remains even. "{Whatever Xavier's faults, which are many, I am sure he would not be cavalier with that knowledge. He may even help make certain no one else finds out in the process.}" He keeps his eyes determinedly on his brother's hand. "{I know it's a lot to ask, and I don't do so lightly, but--I beg you to reconsider. For me, if not for Hive.}" He swallows, glances up at Lucien's eyes and then down at the dog. "{Please.}" Lucien's toes curl down into the grass, his fingers clenching harder at the back of the chair. He lifts his eyes, fixing on Matt's face with a quiet searching. His gaze breaks at please, stuttering away to land back on the dog. "{For you,}" he agrees, then, quietly. His grip eases as straightens, taking a step back away from the chair. "{Just tell me when I need to go.}" There is a beat, before he turns away for the door. "{-- I do not want you there. I am sure the world's most powerful telepath can smooth over the oddness.}" Matt does react this time, though it still does not feel like surprise or even relief--just fierce, deliberate affection and, more organically, a quiet stir of hope. He looks back up at Lucien and gives a firm nod. "{I'll stay out of your hair--and his lack thereof. I'd have less faith if he weren't working so hard to become the world's second most powerful telepath again.}" Suddenly he wants very badly to follow his brother inside, the impulse a complicated mess that he does not have the wherewithal to untangle just yet. He takes a deep breath and lets it out into a soft and somewhat less complicated "{Thank you, darling.}" Lucien only nods. He says nothing more as he starts back -- though when Flèche gets up to follow him he does turn, staying her with a small hand gesture. He only slips back in once the dog has settled down at Matt's feet once more. | |
