Logs:Field Work Fail
| Field Work Fail | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2019-02-20 "I am kind of awkward. And white. And a...person." |
| Location
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 early evening on a cold, snowy day, and the neighborhood is alive with the noises of residents (or their hired help) shoveling their steps and sidewalks. Having already done this for his hosts (and their neighbors), Steve is now in the kitchen staring down a pile of vegetables. Desi's old laptop, which had been donated for his use, sits open on the counter, displaying a recipe for Hearty Butternut Squash Soup. He's wearing a tightly fitted black v-neck t-shirt and straight-leg blue jeans, his feet bare. The dog follows him around as he starts washing the ingredients, snuffling hopefully if somewhat prematurely. Outside there's a stirring of air, a flap-thump-rustle. A firm quick knock-knock-knock on the back door rather than the front. On the back kitchen steps, Dusk is shedding a light sprinkling of icy-wet from his huge wings with sharp flicks; the droplets glimmer against their sable fuzz and lend his polished onyx claws an even brighter shine. There's a heavy trenchcoat folded over one arm, far more covered with snow than the rest of him -- his sweater (ribbed and black) and heavy corduroys are only just barely starting to collect a few flakes, though his boots are more thoroughly crusted. A fleecey black cap is pulled down over his ears, wisps of wavy hair curling out from under it. Flèche perks up at the sound of wings, and rushes to the back door, prancing in circles and barking in anticipation rather than alarm. Steve puts down the butternut squash and slowly straightens up from the fighting stance he had instinctively adopted. He picks up the shield he had left leaning against one side of the counter and goes to open to door. Blinks at the visitor. "Oh, hey," he says. His eyes keep flicking to Dusk's wings, and he keeps forcing them back to the other man's face as he blurts, "You were at the party." He blushes, sudden and fierce. "Sorry, please come in. I think Matt will be home soon, if you're looking for him?" "I was! So were you. I'm Dusk. I'm sure you got like a hundred names that night." Dusk's smile is quick and bright and makes no effort to hide the very sharp and very long fangs that glint in his mouth. He knocks his boots one after the other against the side of the stoop before stepping inside. His wings press tight to his back as he moves past Steve, stopping just inside the door to stoop and unlace his boots. He tips his head up toward Steve as he does. "I wasn't looking for Matt, though, actually. I was looking for you." Steve's eyes go slightly wide at the sight of the fangs, but he smiles back all the same. "Thanks, I was just debating how to ask. I'm Steve, and I have to admit I'm kind of surprised that anyone is looking for me. Well..." He trails off. Flèche dances around their guest and drops down into a textbook sit in front of him while he takes off his boots. "So ah, can I get you something to drink? Or eat?" Steve closes the door behind Dusk. Dusk reaches up a hand to ruffle slow and careful at Flèche's head, distracted briefly from his task. One boot stays on, loose and untied; his wings shift slightly open to balance him in his crouch as he pets the dog. "Right, yeah, I figured --" A slight red flush darkens his cheeks. "I mean, I can imagine plenty of people looking for you. I just mean that you being new here and all maybe you don't know many people in the neighborhood yet." He drapes a wing loosely around the dog, rubbing at her back as he finally tugs off his other boot. "I was hoping maybe I could take you out. Matt says you like coffee." "Most of the people looking for me...well, they're not the sort I'm much interested in getting to know." Steve chuckles. "I talk to the neighbors -- they're all very curious and very awkward." He frowns. Hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans -- and then immediately unhooks them again. "And I'm going to be working at Montagues in SoHo. But no, it's mostly just been the Tessiers." Flèche wiggles happily, tail thrashing and nose sniffing at Dusk's boots. "Take me...out? For coffee." He blinks. "Yeah, that -- that would be great. All the coffee here is so excellent, I still can't quite wrap my head around it." Then he looks at the vegetables on the counter. Back at Dusk, "Wait, did you mean right now?" "This neighborhood is full of awkward white people. No offense." Dusk pushes himself back to his feet with a flex of wings braced against the floor, his coat puddled on the floor beside his boots. He hooks his thumbs through his beltloops. "Right now would be kind of presumptuous, huh?" His teeth catch briefly at his lower lip, tugging his smile crooked. "Why, are you free right now?" "None taken," Steve says hastily. Stares openly at Dusk as he levers himself up by his wings. "I am kind of awkward. And white. And a...person." He frowns a touch. Runs a hand through his hair. "I uh...was going to make dinner." He blushes. "I'm not much of a cook, but Luci -- Wednesdays are extra exhausting for him, so I thought it might be nice to..." Gestures loosely at the vegetables. "Is there a particular place you like to go? For coffee." "I can offer to help, but honestly I can't really cook for shit either. Though I can follow a recipe fine and I'm good enough at chopping if someone's directing." Dusk glances over to the vegetables, hitches up his wings in a shrug. "There's a couple places I like to go, but they aren't going anywhere. When's he due back? You want a hand with all this?" One thumbclaw flicks towards the vegetables in time with a quick smile. "Coffee can wait." "I have a recipe," Steve offers gamely, pointing at the laptop. "And it looks pretty straightforward, mostly chopping and boiling. But I found it on the --" He hesitates. "-- through Google, on the Internet, so..." Here he just shrugs. "I'd much appreciate the help, even if it's only with chopping. Luci won't be back until 23:00 at the earliest, but I figured if I start now and make a complete hash of it, Matt will be home in plenty of time to help me throw together an alternative." He picks up a head of garlic and tosses it to Dusk. "Maybe it won't come to that, now that you're here. That's...assuming we fill in each other's culinary shortcomings instead of magnifying them." Dusk's eyebrows hike way up. He snags the garlic easily out of the air, its cloves already starting to split apart in his palm. There's a low purring rumble that starts in his chest -- his continued amused smile suggest, at least, that this isn't really a growl much though it may sound like one. "I take it by your optimism," his words come lightly over the backdrop rumble, "that Matt's cooking hasn't been inflicted on you yet?" Head shaking, he moves to lean against the counter and look over the recipe. "Don't worry. I have faith in us."
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