Logs:Renewal

Renewal
Dramatis Personae Jax, Lucien, Steve	2021-02-02 "Just a lil -- appetizing pre-dinner thought to mull over."
Location <PRV> 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. Outside just below freezing, the thick blanket of snow still solidly in place, but the house is warm and smells delightfully of roasted root vegetables, potato leeks soup, and fresh honey cakes, with just the faintest suggestion now of the fire being kindled out back. Steve sits at the kitchen counter dressed casually in a green-and-white plaid flannel shirt and his most comfortable blue jeans, sipping at his cider and eyeing the honey cakes with obvious interest, though he has refrained thus far from pilfering any. "Really, neither of us knows how we're going to go about this superhero business," he's concluding, "but I feel a lot more hopeful figuring it out with him from the ground up than trying to wrangle S.H.I.E.L.D. out of their set ways." He shakes his head. "Not sure if I should be more grateful or suspicious that Fury wants so much autonomy for this team, but I guess we'll run with it and see." Jax is just setting down a tray of miso-roasted vegetables on the counter, fresh of the oven though his lack of any oven mitts might be a little misleading as to the extremely hot state of the baking tray. He's in a brightly colorblocked rainbow sweatshirt unzipped over a tee screenprinted with images from the Lorax, a black kilt interspersed with rainbow paneling, warm fleece-lined grey leggings, thick mismatched multicolored thigh-high socks. He plucks up a slice of parsnip, snapping it in half and munching on it. "Are you serious about the superhero thing? Like what whoosh around the world crimefighting? Are you gonna have uniforms?" Steve's attire is changing as he speaks -- an outfit clearly inspired by his Captain America getup but a whole lot more bright and more spandexy. His eyes light and, next, as he slips across the counter to offer the other piece of parsnip to Steve for the tasting: "Are you gonna have capes?" Now an entire American Flag for a cape, fluttering behind Steve despite the lack of breeze in here. "DJ might whoosh. Steve moves considerably more slowly." Across the counter, Lucien is casual, too, in soft long-sleeved green henley and dark jeans. He's been sifting powdered sugar and cinnamon together into a small bowl, but glances up swiftly at the change in Steve's attire, his eyes fluttering open wider very briefly before a faint twitch pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Do you need to pick one? You can be glad of the freedom while taking it as a harbinger of how swiftly you might be thrown under the bus if you misstep. And there are so very many places you might misstep." "Not sure how much we'll look like superheroes in the end," Steve says, his brows wrinkling with thought, "and I'm sure it won't be anything like the comics. God knows I'm no Superman." He rubs the brace that covers his right hand absently, but lapses into an easy smile at his rapid costume change, glancing back with a guffaw at the cape. "Think I've got enough flag with the shield alone, but I might do a bit of whooshing," his objection here is very mild, "I'm only slow by comparison." He accepts the parsnip and any offense, real or affected, is forgotten. "Gosh, that's even more delicious than it smells, which says a lot." Taking a sip of his cider, he's peering at the tray of roasted tubers with hungry interest now. "Oh, I'm sure we will -- misstep. Think that's why Fury wanted me to lead the team, though my fame will only buy us so much latitude." Jax bounces happily on his toes at Steve's approval, turning back around to go get a spatula so that he can transfer the vegetables into a serving bowl. "Mmm... I feel like there's a definite aerial component to whooshing," he tells Steve with a critical shake of his head. "If you're on the ground, you're doing zooms." He leans back up against the counter, eying Lucien's sifting and then the honey-cakes. After a moment there's a glimmer, an unfurling sheet of prismatic translucent barrier spreading over the top of the cakes with intricate cut-out designs over the top of each small cake. Little snowflakes, silhouetted flames, small snowdrops, curling vines. He manages to only sound a little skeptical when he asaks, "Do you have like -- a plan? For -- how you're gonna lead this kind of project?" "Superheroics is such a new branch of science, you will have to forgive Steve for not knowing all the official taxonomy." Lucien is just finishing mixing his sugar together, eyes flicking back to the cakes first with surprise but then a pleased crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He tips the mixture back into the sifter, dusting it now over the partially-shielded cakes to leave neatly stenciled spiced-sugar designs atop each. He doesn't add to Jax's last question, though the lift of his brows is markedly curious. Steve leans across the counter and plucks up a roasted beet from the corner of the baking tray, ducking his head sheepishly when Jax turns back around armed with a spatula but popping it into his mouth all the same. "Fair enough, I'll do some zooming," he correct himself with a lopsided twitch of a smile. "I think that's one of the things we need to figure out. In terms of decision-making, I want to respect and benefit from the expertise of all my teammates. Make sure there are checks to my own biases, but still bear the brunt of any --" His lips compress. "-- negative attention. In terms of combat I've always led from the front. Don't know how to do it any other way, though I'm not sure..." He shakes his head, sharp and impatient. "Feels disingenuous to worry about this." His right hand curls tight, and he flinches. "Not like it's stopped me from fighting so far." "How can you lead if you have two good arms?" Jax claps his hand to his chest with this very over-dramatic question, but his mock-anguish fades swiftly into a bright smile. The glimmering shield vanishes once Luci finishes dusting the sugar on, and he slumps against the counter beside the newly-decorated cakes. "Are you, though? Worried about that? Don't know if you're expecting to be doing fighting on a different scale than before." Lucien huffs out a short and quiet breath, head shaking at Jax's comment. "Well. That is why he will have DJ by his side, no doubt." His brows draw together as he starts arranging the cakes, too, into a neat rosette on a plate. "Have you anyone else in mind for this team, yet?" His eyes flick down quickly to Steve's right hand, but just as quickly back to plating his food. "-- If that is. Weighing on you, I do know someone who might be able to assist." Steve blinks, his perplexed gaze flicking between Jax and Lucien. "Think I managed alright during the war," he says, though he allows a confused smile to acknowledge the reference. His shoulders tense momentarily, then relax. "I am," he admits at a slight delay. "Should be grateful I have what use of it I do, even if it hurts. But -- yeah, I expect we might be getting into a lot more intense action than just street brawls with Nazis gangsters." His mouth pulls to the side, and he frowns. "I haven't written off Fury's recommendations, but Sam is at the top of my list." He looks up at Lucien, brows furrowing. "I've been referred to the top orthopedic surgeons in the country, and not one has shown much confidence." His shrug is minute. "The way it was injured is just so unconventional." "Sorry," Jax says with a crinkle of his nose and a reddening of his cheeks, "it's a reference to -- um -- it's a really bad movie, uh, though, maybe you should. It's actually kind of hilarious and the main character looks like if you grew a beard and forgot to take a shower for a year." His hand scrubs at his own chin, smoothing at the neatly trimmed goatee there. His brows furrow. "Not like he ain't had plenty of --" He nods towards Steve. "Unless you're talkin', like, Joshua, but he'd have to --" He grimaces, his own hand reflexively clenching. "I admit I have some curiosity as to who Fury recommends." Lucien's voice is soft, but the lift of his brows is more than mildly inquisitive. His head inclines in acknowledgement. "It is not a straightforward injury, no, or I might have ventured it sooner. But if it cannot be repaired -- it could still be regrown." "Ah, would that be Chris Evans?" Steve ventures. "I'm sure he bathes in real life, though." He braces his elbows on the counter. Then rapidly straightens up again. "Joshua -- likely saved my life that day, or at least a very long recovery, but he said there wasn't anything he could do about this." He lifts his right hand, fingers twitching abortively as they try and fail to waggle. His frown deepens. "And how could it be regrown unless --" His expression freezes, his face paling and eyes widening as they flick aside to his own upraised hand. "Oh." "He can regrow it, but, like. If you're willing to --" A cleaver appears in midair, slicing itself right down onto the counter and neatly through Jax's wrist. The resulting severing of his hand is thankfully bloodless, though his hand does come off, walking on glittery-nailed fingers across the counter over towards Steve and up his arm to perch on the other man's shoulder. The apparent disappearance of his extremity doesn't stop him from picking the bowl of vegetables up off the counter and turning toward the door to outside. "Just a lil -- appetizing pre-dinner thought to mull over." Lucien's fingers clench against the edges of the plate of honeycakes, his pupils widening as Jax's hand scuttles off. "As I said. Not quite a solution to venture lightly. I had hoped one of the surgery options might pan out, but --" His eyes track the path of the somewhat more colourful iteration of Thing, a small twitch pulling at his mouth. "With this new venture, it seems worth bringing up." Steve flinches at Jax's illusory demonstration, color draining further from his face. The whimsy of the upwardly mobile severed hand, at least, seems to mollify him somewhat, and he manages a slightly queasy smile as he rises from his seat. "That's -- surely not a pleasant thought," he admits, "but then, neither is this." His right hand clenches and unclenches again, though this time his expression only gives the smallest twitch in reaction, the pain fully anticipated. "I appreciate it," he tells Lucien earnestly as he scoops up the covered soup pot in the crook of his arm to bring outside, "and I'll -- consider it."