Logs:Petworking Oppawtunity
| Petworking Oppawtunity | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2019-09-15 "You are at the Lofts too, then? You're amassing quite an interesting crowd there." |
| Location | |
Things in the park haven't really started picking up just yet; it's early enough Sunday that the late-night partiers are still largely abed, the brunch crowds haven't begin filtering out into the streets. A game of one-on-one is happening on the basketball courts, many of the people trickling through the park have coffee cups in hand; one young man riding through on his bike is, despite the hour, blaring "Old Town Road" at high volume from huge speakers mounted onto the rear rack; a small handful of people dressed in black are setting up a stage and a number of chairs over at one end of the park though with no signage yet in evidence, what performance might take place there later that day is anyone's guess. The dog runs are, similarly, not yet packed. A pair of shih tzus tumble eagerly with one small and nervous miniature pinscher looking on worriedly in the small dog run. In the main dog run one sleek and pointy black and tan mutt is (not for the first, second, or twentieth time) sprinting full tilt across the dirt to drop a slimy mud-crusted ball at the feet of a tall and elegantly dressed dark-haired man. In impeccably tailored grey vest and slacks, crisp seafoam-green dress shirt, Lucien doesn't quite look dressed for playtime with Pups. Which doesn't stop him from plucking up the ball -- carefully, between two fingers -- and tossing it in a high arcing pitch far back across the yard. Flèche is off before the ball has even quite left his hand, leaving Lucien to lean back against the fence and sip from a slim black thermos held in his other hand. "For all his excitement," he is continuing some conversation in a soft francophone-tinged accent, picking up wherever it had been before doggo interruption, "Gaétan has been quite sparing with actual details of what the festivities will be." A one-eyed beagle who has only just followed Flèche across the dog park has barely made it to Lucien before the ball is thrown again. Obie wags his tail rapidly, looses a noise somewhere between a howl and a bay, and turns to waddle after the faster dog. A rangy tween in a pale blue t-shirt features a huge red heart bracketed with yellow lightning bolts above the words 'Compassion is Invincible!', fraying jean shorts, and gray canvas sneakers is slumped against the fence beside Lucien. He straightens up abruptly, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. "Ok! So, there'll be kiddush at Anshei Shalom after the service -- only slightly fancier than usual -- then I'm gonna hang out with some school friends in the afternoon. Gae can come, too if he wants, but it's just gonna be...you know, kid stuff." He grins mysteriously. "Oh, the party at Chimaera is gonna be seven until nine and there's gonna be so much music and dancing, and then the after party is gonna be at Evolve with even more --" He frowns. Stops bouncing. "Wait, is it the after-after party? After-after-after?" His confusion passes as quickly as it comes on. "Oh right and birthday party Friday night at our place." Sarah, quite unfortunately, is dogless when she walks into the dog park. That doesn't seem to quell her excitement. One might think she's walking into an amusement park, with the way she bounces on her toes while scanning the benches for a place to sit. She's dressed in jeans that are covered in various patches that seem to follow a theme of 'hearts, roses, and Hello Kitty', cuffed at the ankle above purple combat boots, and a white crop top that reads, in faded black font, 'All you knead is love.' A pink and baby blue flannel is tied around her waist, while she holds (as she does most of the time) a square sketchbook and beat-up pencil bag. Sarah nearly looks over Spence completely, since he is a person and not a bench or other acceptable place to sit, before realizing-- hey, that is a person she knows! Her hand raises in a wave, hesitating only a moment when she sees that he's with someone unfamiliar to her--but it would be rude to not say hello. So she heads over. "Hi, Spence!" she greets with a smile. "Are you here with Obie?" Lucien's eyes track the dogs -- Flèche has this time forgotten the ball to, instead, tackle Obie as he runs after her -- but his quietly interspersed hums suggest he is listening to Spence. "Has Gaétan become an adult while I was not looking?" His frown is thoughtful. "Perhaps each party is simply its own thing. Self-contained. Worthy of their own specific nomenclature. He draws himself up a little bit straighter when Sarah enters -- somewhat reflexively, his eyes drift to the list of dog park rules posted by the entrance ("1. No dogs without people. No people without dogs") but slip to Spencer instead as Sarah approaches. He sips at his tea again, bright green eyes flicking over the newcomer before he resumes his languid leaning post against the fence. "He is kinda like, the oldest fourteen-year-old," Spencer says brightly, "but I just mean even though he doesn't go to my school.Whoa, why didn't I think to give each party its own name is it too late?" He turns at the sound of his name and waves. "Oh hey, Sarah! Yep, he's doing a puppy play date." Obie goes down easily when ambushed, flopping over onto his back without much evident distress, legs flailing in the air and tail never ceasing from its wagging. "This is Sarah, she's our neighbor," he explains for Lucien's benefit. "I have a theory that Pa puts out some kind of field that attracts other bakers and artists." As soon as Spence confirms Obie's presence, Sarah turns to look for him. A bright smile appears on her face when she spots him playing. "I'm not nearly as good as Jax at either of those things, though," she says to Lucien, rather cheerfully. Facts are facts. "It's nice to meet you. I hope I didn't interrupt your conversation." That last is said to the both of them, her tone offering, between the lines, to leave. "Certainly it is not too late. A whole world of festivity naming possibility is open to you. I very much doubt anyone at Chimaera would mind if you decided it was an Art mitzvah party there, instead." Lucien caps his thermos, turning to Sarah with a small inclination of his head when Spencer introduces her. "There is no shame in that. Few people can match him." One dark eyebrow lifts after this, though. He looks over her once more, a bit more appraising this time. "You have," his tone is still the same mild and level it has been this whole while, "quite clearly interrupted it." Spencer starts bouncing up onto his toes. "Aaaaaah Art mitzvah I like that! Maybe we can have art stations or something!" Then he settles back down, grinning at the pups as they come tumbling back, both looking up at Lucien expectantly. "But neither of you even got the ball!" he admonishes, laughing. "Oh Sarah, my birthday party is Friday night at 7 you should come." Sarah's smile falls a touch at Lucien's words, but doesn't fade completely. Even after performing a possible social faux pas, it is difficult to not smile around dogs. "I'm sorry, I thought it might be more rude to not say hello." She hopes it comes across as sincere, not just an excuse. "You want me to leave?" Even as she offers, she brightens again as Spencer's words register. "Oh, hey, happy early birthday! At your apartment? Should I bring anything?" she asks excitedly, starting to bounce herself. "I am sure there are any number of people at Chimaera who would be delighted to help you set up all manner of arts." Lucien straightens and takes a step back when Sarah starts to bounce, his lips compressing slightly and his hand tightening around his thermos. "Did I say that? I just do not know why you bothered to ask me, if you came over intending to interrupt." He crouches down when the dogs return, setting his tea beside him and reaching out to scruff at both dogs' ears. "The ball is all the way over there, darlings. Sweet utterly useless pups." Spencer blinks at Sarah, then at Lucien. "Sometimes interruptions happen." He gives a very exaggerated shrug. "I'll get the ball!" He blinks to the opposite end of the park and blinks back with the slimy ball held between two fingers. The dogs, however, have not noticed that Spence has the ball, and he also seem to promptly forget that he has it. "Oh, you don't have to bring anything, but if you want to you can check in with my pa. I mean usually I help cook when we have parties but I'll protesting all day." Grasping her sketchbook and pencil bag to her chest, Sarah looks at Lucien with uncertainty. "You have a point," she says after a moment, and then because it can't possibly make things worse, "Your dog is adorable. What's their name?" Then it's Sarah's turn to blink at Spence as what he says clicks. She obviously needs to step up her birthday game. "I'll definitely check in, if Jax is going to be out a sous chef. What are you gonna be protesting?" Lucien looks up from petting the dogs; there's no smile on his face, really, but a brighter warmth that lights his eyes all the same. "This is Flèche. She has a very busy social calendar, but there is always room for Possibly-Oberon on her schedule. And this dog run is larger than the one near our house, anyway. He," he tells the pups, pointing now to Spence, "has the ball now. Go on." This does, in fact, send Flèche trotting over to sit expectantly in front of Spencer. Obie just continues bonking his head up into the petting. "You are at the Lofts too, then? You're amassing quite an interesting crowd there." "They are best dog buds," Spencer adds confidentially, "because she doesn't judge him for being bad at Dog. Oh right!" He sends the ball sailing across the park again. Obie wags his tail, suddenly noticing Spence's return, and stares expectantly at his hand -- now empty. "I'm protesting climate change -- or, I mean governments not doing anything about climate change. It's not just me, it's a world-wide school strike." "You're a very lucky lady, Flèche, to have such a good friend." Sarah holds a hand out to let Flèche sniff, if she deems such a thing worthy of her time. Spencer, after all, has the ball. "Yeah, I live with my sister and sister-in-law. We moved in maybe... two and a half months ago?" The length of time takes her by surprise. "It's a really great place to live. A-plus neighbors. A-plus neighbor-pets, too." Kneeling down, Sarah scratches at Obie's ears, somewhat covering them. Like he might actually understand what they are saying. "Obie does his best. Don't you, boy? Your best is all you can do." While she had talked to Flèche normally, Obie absolutely gets the baby-talk. Spence does not. "That's so rad. I hope you have a great time. I can't picture anyone in my school doing anything like that. You know, when I was there." Flèche is far too distracted for sniffing, bolting off the moment Spence flings the ball again. Lucien dusts his hands together, picking up his thermos and rising to his feet again. "There are quite a number of upcoming actions surrounding that, no? It is certainly a worthy thing to be doing with your day. If -- admittedly it seems a shame you need to spend your birthday working to ensure you have many more." Obie would perhaps also be easily distracted, if he noticed the ball (or Flèche, for that matter) taking off again. But he's happy to receive more scritches. "I don't know where you went, but there's kids from all kinds of schools." To Lucien he nods, emphatically and far more times than really necessary. "Yeah, so many. There's stuff for grown-ups, too! The big rally's gonna be noon at Foley Square, and then there's going to be a bunch of stuff next week, too, for the Climate Summit." He subsides a little. "Yeah, the whole end of the world thing isn't great. But since that's going on no matter what I do with my birthday, I'd rather spend it with rad people who wanna fight." | |
