Logs:My Friend Flicker

My Friend Flicker
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Sam, Steve
In Absentia	2019-11-07 "What were you expecting?"
Location <PRV> Sam and Steve's Apartment - Harlem
This is a third-story walkup in an aging historic building which, while not entirely crumbling, has a certain worn and shabby look, its plumbing and fixtures often in need of repair. The apartment has two small bedrooms, but makes up for it with capacious common areas. A single long space serves as living room and dining room combined, is semi-open to the kitchen, and has a surprisingly large bathroom with an antique claw-footed tub. Tall, drafty windows let out onto the fire escape from the living room and both bedrooms, and let in excellent light from the southern exposure. The sleek art deco motif that runs through the living room furniture, while not strictly matching, has clearly been worked to coordinate. The dining set, coffee and end tables have been crafted with complementary geometric patterning, ebony accents providing a dark contrast to the warmer swirls of maple burl that feature most prominently. The sofa, love seat, and chair fill out the rest of the living room, a matching set upholstered in plush burgundy. The numerous lamps do not all match, some of them clearly temporary supplement for the inadequate overhead lighting. The apartment is quiet now, but that's -- a relatively recent change from the noises that have been filling it for an impressively long stretch of evening. Among the many blessings of the super-soldier serum, evidently: a good deal of stamina. For Steve, anyway. Flicker -- maybe a liiittle worse for wear as he finally surfaces, very mussed, very sweaty, dressed just in rumpled khakis and plain white undershirt, its small embroidered white markings barely visible. His arm is muted in color today though no less intricate for it, feathered along the sides in blue-grey with black spotting, rust-colored and black-barred along the top, white and black spotted along the inner arm. His face is flushed and his movements just a little sluggish, a little stiff, as he goes to retrieve a pair of glasses from the kitchen. Fill them with water. Sam's gotten to be an expert at ignoring those noises by now. He's also invested in some good headphones -- which are still on his head as he emerges from the bathroom, in jeans and deep red short-sleeved button-down. Likely he was going to head straight back to his room but he stops, turns, eyes Flicker filling up the water glasses. A moment later, pushes the headphones back to hang around his neck. "What's that, there -- kestrel?" Possibly Steve had not intended to venture out of his room just yet, but perhaps hearing Sam's voice changed his mind. Regardless, there's a delay, a rustle of clothing, before he emerges, too, clad in a soft black v-night t-shirt and worn blue jeans. "Hey there, Sam." He wasn't flushed (though his hair is a mess), but he is blushing furiously now. Stops, glances between the two other men. "I ah...don't think you've properly met." It's difficult to catch Flicker's fumbling of the glass -- though it drops from his hand he catches it again swiftly enough it only seems to have shifted slightly downward in his grip. Though already flushed, now the red deepens, flooding out into his ears as his head ducks. He mumbles something that may be a greeting, looking up in some surprise only at the question. "Oh -- huh?" Steve's arrival does not help his blushing. He offers one of the water glasses out to Steve, shutting the sink off and taking the other glass for himself. His grip on it is very tight; he holds it close to his chest rather than drinking."No, sorry. Not -- yet." Sam saunters closer leaning up against the wall near but not in the kitchen doorway. Nods towards Flicker's arm. "Your arm. Just got a bird in looks a lot like that." His eyes sweep up over Flicker. Dart from him to Steve with a very slight quirk of brows. "Sam. Can't say you're quite what I expected. Good to meet you, though." A beat. "Finally." Steve accepts the water with a murmured thanks and leans against the counter. Bows his head, blushing deeper. "Mea culpa. Flicker, my housemate. Sam, my --" He hesitates, pale blue eyes darting to Flicker. "-- friend, Flicker. "Sam here works at a bird rescue -- raptors." "Oh!" Flicker exhales a sudden breath, lets out a sudden tension in his shoulders. The smile he offers Sam is quicker, brighter. "Yeah! A kestrel. I saw one in the Rambles just a couple mornings ago. You do rehab?" He looks to Sam with greater interest, now. Takes a half-step closer to Steve but cuts it short and chooses instead to lean against the counter as well -- a short distance away, taking a long gulp of water. The troubled ripple that creases his brow melts back away nearly as soon as it disturbs his expression. The curiosity that tinges his voice afterwards is rather deliberately light: "What were you expecting?" "It's a wildlife rehab but yeah, I work with the birds." Sam's arms cross loosely over his chest, weight resettling against his shoulder. "You like birding?" comes about a half-second before the questioning: "Flicker. Huh." His own expression is placid, though he watches Flicker's thoughtfully through that brief disturbance. "I --" It's harder to catch the slight redder heat that creeps into his own cheeks. "You know, it's -- not important what I thought. M'glad to see you 'round. You oughtta stick your head out more often. Make yourself comfortable here. Don't have to --" His hand lifts, makes a small flashing motion in midair. "Door works fine." "This fella has taught me more about birds than I ever thought there was to know." Steve smiles, still red in the face but less bothered, now. "I'm sure the two of you could find plenty to talk about, and I promise I don't mind if it's over my head. It's been a constant in my life a while now." Glances at Sam. Runs a hand through his hair, the red creeping all the way up to his ears "I'm afraid his coming and going might be as much to avoid scandal as anything. Ryan knows, but his fan club is liable to come after us both if they found out." He shakes his head. "Doesn't mean you can't have a bite with us when it suits you." "Oh -- oh." Flicker's head ducks, his eyes wider. "Steve would never -- Ryan knows we -- it's not --" His mechanical hand gestures stiffly toward Steve. "Ryan's a good friend and -- oh, no, that sounds bad, doesn't it? I just mean -- I never know who's been hanging around here trying to dig through their lives and -- they've both got enough on their plates already." He eases further against the counter, fingers tapping quickly against the side of his glass as his weight shifts a hair closer to Steve. "Flicker like the bird," he agrees with a soft smile. "I actually -- don't know nearly as much about raptors as some other birds. But I'd always like to learn." As Sam lets out a quiet breath his expression finally relaxes. "Got it. Yeah. Makes sense. I wouldn't want the whole world up in my business, either." He straightens, pulling away from the wall. "Well. Sounds like maybe you'll be around long enough you'll have a chance." He starts to put his headphones back on, hesitating with a crooked smile. "He actually sticks around till breakfast this time, and maybe I will."