Logs:Runaway
| Runaway | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2021-07-08 "{You guys are...kind of a mess?}" (Shortly after the Avengers' doomed first mission) |
| Location
<DC> AKA White House - Downtown | |
Not to be confused with the other White House a few blocks away, this is a chic extended-stay hotel popular with those whose business keeps them in the nation's capital -- and keeps them in luxury. The entryway and lobby are not large, though elegant and comfortable with copious plush seating arranged to encourage dawdling and conversation.The lounge beyond is quite expansive, the decoration slick and modern with a gleaming horseshoe-shaped bar as a centerpiece. The suites above range from one-room affairs to sweeping penthouse, all tastefully appointed with plush furniture, state-of-the-art appliances, thoughtfully stocked kitchens and bathrooms, and private balconies. A capacious gym, theater, business center and rooftop terrace are also available, along with dining and other residential services for those without the time, ability, or inclination to manage their temporary homes. Outside it's still sweltering, DC's fierce humidity carrying the scorching heat of the day well past sunset. Here in the lobby of the White House it is cool, perhaps even a touch on the chilly side to compensate for the opening and closing of the front door. The dark-haired young man behind the front desk is busying himself at his console, singing the chorus of Lil' Nas X's "Call Me by Your Name" quietly under his breath. A teenage girl with short brown hair is curled up on the couch across from him, sleeping fitfully under an AKA-branded black throw blanket. A half-drunk bottle of Coke sits on the low table and a purple iridescent backpack, stuffed near to bursting, leans against the side of the couch. Waves of exhaustion and disquiet roll out from her, subtle enough that the uninitiated would not think anything amiss. The door slides open, slides back closed; Lucien (in a lightweight gray linen suit cut in sleek modern lines to flatter his muscular physique, a blue and white striped seersucker shirt underneath cinched with a fine silk tie in rich blue paisley, plain grey face mask and sensible black monk shoes) looks barely touched by the swampy heat outside, his taxi pulling away even as the door closes behind him. He's been focused on the phone in his hand but his eyes snap up, rivet on the couch across the lobby. The tilt of his head is minute, as is the barely-perceptible widening of his eyes; the flutter of disquiet that rolls across his mind is pushed back against, smoothed out, his mental equilibrium recovered neatly as he continues across to the desk. "--Oh. Goodness. Thank you for keeping her comfortable. How long has she been here?" The phone is still buzzing insistently as he tucks it away into his pocket. Jair looks up from his screen as Lucien enters, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes smile enough even if his black AKA mask obscures much of his expression. "Welcome back, Mister Tessier," he pipes, pleasant and energetic even after a long day of classes and likely hours of school work. "Not long -- about an hour? I offered her a cot back in the break room, but she wanted to wait out here." His dark brown eyes dart past Lucien to the girl now stirring to wakefulness, then back to the other man's vivid green eyes, his expression thoughtful. "Is she your..." he starts to ask, then seems to think better of it, faint blush barely visible on his dusky skin. "I can have the kitchen send something up, if you'd like." The swell of Sera's power becomes more pronounced as her eyes blink open, a palpable pulse of anxiety and loneliness and hunger dampened by exhaustion, abruptly interrupted with relief and then with guilt when she senses Lucien. Jair frowns, perplexed, though nothing in his carriage suggests that he's connected these alien emotions to Sera. Sera, meanwhile, is levering herself up and gathering the blanket in to fold it. She wears a short sleeve button down in pastel rainbow stripes, denim Bermuda shorts, and sequined purple low top sneakers, all of it new if rather rumpled -- presumably by the journey that brought her here. "Hi," she says, finally. "I would have texted, but you were rehearsing and then I fell asleep." "That's very kind of you." Lucien's head bows at the truncated question, his eyes lowering for a moment. His forefinger traces a light circle against the polished desk, and he only replies, at a small delay: "-- a pair of burgers might be good, if it wouldn't be a trouble. Everything on them. Fries. Perhaps some chocolate malts. I do appreciate it." He straightens as he turns aside, fingers flexing and a moment later clasping with his other hand behind his back. He doesn't fight the heavier pulse of Sera's power, makes no attempt to wrestle this stronger swell away. Instead these heavier emotions simply ripple out into his own carefully sorted neurochemical depths and disperse, a stone tossed into a quiet lake. "It's quite alright. Flèche will be thrilled, certainly." His hand is tipping out toward the elevators. "I hope you took the train; the bus can be a misery in this heat." Jair's blush deepens enough to show, but he keeps on gamely enough, jotting down the requested meal. "I'll have them get started on that. Now you've got me craving a chocolate malt! Maybe they can make an extra one." He nods to the girl. "It was nice to meet you, Sera, and I appreciate the advice." Sera bobs her head as she hefts her backpack -- it does not look light -- up onto one shoulder, then as an afterthought plucks up her Coke. "I mean, maybe he'll rather play with his friends, but if it were me? I'd save a game or three for my big brother." She flashes Jair a winning smile that she only half feels. "Have a good evening!" When she looks back at Lucien she has to swallow back another profound wave of loneliness, an intense desire to go to him that she quashes with far more force than finesse, though however ungraceful it evens out her breathing and relaxes her tense shoulders. "Chinatown Bus," she replies lightly. "At one point we pulled over and the driver just like. Wandered off into the pine barrens for a while. I guess he really needed to go?" Lucien inclines his head politely to Jair before starting toward the elevators. "Oh, an adventure, then. If you are very lucky and you catch them on the right days, they will light those buses on fire for you. Just as a special treat." He hits ten once they are inside, watching the numbers tick with his arms crossed loose over his chest. His eyes flit to Sera's laden backpack -- then back to the changing numbers as a quiet grief rises in him, turns over, melts back into the rest of his meticulous order. He's produced a keycard by the time the elevator doors open, leading the way to a small suite where an eagerly wagging dog leaves her bed by the balcony doors to greet them. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I need to let her out briefly but I won't be long." <DC> AKA White House - Lucien's Suite This one-room residence suite has more in common with a small luxury apartment than any hotel room. Bright and airy, it is tastefully appointed with a wealth of mirrors, and furnished in understated earth tones. Just inside the entryway, the dining area sports a round table in smokey glass, three chairs, and one long bench against the wall. The kitchen is small but efficiently designed with steel appliances and a full set of cookware, utensils, elegant if utilitarian tableware, and various other thoughtful homey conveniences. A long, gleaming limestone counter separates the kitchen from the living room with its perhaps surprising variety of seating options, from tall stools at the counter to classic armchairs to the soft, comfortable couch facing a widescreen TV across a smoky glass coffee table. A set of french doors in the living room open onto a balcony with a breathtaking view of the cityscape. Opposite that, a short hallway accesses the half bath, linen closet, laundry machines, and the frosted glass sliding doors to the bedroom. This last, while admitted cozy, does not skimp on luxury. A king size bed takes up a good deal of the floor space, a long closet much of one wall, with an integrated chest of drawers, and the adjoining full bath is perhaps startlingly spacious with a generous soaking tub, rainwater shower, and a counter with two sinks. "Kind of a smelly adventure." Sera's nose wrinkles up at the memory, the nausea that accompanies it thankfully brief. "Smoke might have better, but I guess it's just not my lucky day." She grips the foam-padded shoulder strap of her backpack hard, her eyes trained steadily on the not-quite-mirrored steel doors of the elevator before she follows Lucien into his home away from home. She drops to her knees and lets the backpack slide from her shoulder, hugging and ruffling the excited dog before sheepishly moving aside with a nod to let them back out the door. By the time Lucien and Flèche return from their short trip outside, Sera is ensconced on the couch, half-draped over its slouchy back to stare out the window at the city lights. She turns at a delay, even though she could likely sense their approach with her power well before she heard them at the door. "I'm sorry for just turning up like this," she says, twisting back around to face Lucien. "I know you're probably super busy, and it's not like..." Her embarrassment is mild beside the uncomfortable sinking sense of being truly, hopelessly lost. She chews on her lower lip. "Matt texted me for supper. I should probably like. Let him know where I am." Lucien takes his time by the door when he returns, carefully hanging up Flèche's leash and collar, shedding his shoes, jacket, mask. "Mmm. It would, perhaps, save him some worry." He slips into his room briefly, returning empty-handed and tieless and sinking down onto an armchair. "Did something happen? Back -- in New York?" "It doesn't really sound like they've noticed I'm --" Sera shrugs. "I mean, sometimes I'm out most of the day." When Lucien heads to his room, she tugs her phone from a pocket and reluctantly swipes out a message.
She looks back up just as Lucien returns, tracking his progress with vague diffidence. "Nothing happened," she starts, but then shakes her head. "I mean, yes something happened, but it wasn't a big deal. I just overreacted." She turns the smartphone over and over between her hands. "Desi told me to go away. I knew she didn't mean like this, but we'd had such a nice day and I thought..." Her lips compress. "I don't know what I thought. It was stupid." Half a beat later, "Any chance I could blame this on hormones?" "If you like, I will back up any excuse you want. It is not such a long trip as to be all that ludicrous to come on a whim." Lucien has leaned slightly forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers very slowly lacing and unlacing, re-lacing in a slightly different order each time. There's a rhythmic shifting in his mind that accompanies this, calm and soothing and re-patterning some of the stress and exhaustion in him into something more manageable. "{Though being honest, I don't know that you need an excuse. I don't think it is stupid. I think you have quite a number of reasons to -- overreact.}" "I can't think of any good excuses, though." Sera draws her knees up to her chest. "It's got to be either believable or like. So ludicrous it's funny, right?" She sighs. "I don't want to half-ass it." The ordering of Lucien's mind pulls Sera along partway, and her shoulders gradually relax. "{You guys are...kind of a mess?}" Her apprehension is sudden and intense. "{I think my family was, too, just differently. You're kinder than they were, though, and I want so badly to be one of you.}" She deflates a little. "{But I'm not sure -- you want that. And I'm not sure it's possible even if you do.}" "Tell them you had to walk Flèche," Lucien suggests, glancing toward the dog, who has draped herself half on and half off her bed. His head dips, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. "{Oh, much more than kind of.}" Briefly, his fingers tighten against each other, his eyes skating to the windows. Then back to Sera. "{I don't know what we are to you. I don't know what we can be to you.}" He breaks off here, exhaling slowly. "{I was hoping we could start by just being a safe place to land in this world, but I'm never certain we aren't just -- making it harder.}" Sera does not wilt any further. This time her disappointment is more profound, even if she manages to keep it off her face. "{I don't know, either. You have been -- safe, and I don't know if you're making it harder. Or if I am. I do know that my brother trusted me to you, and I trust his judgement.}" She curls in on herself a little more. "{I'm not trying to replace my family. But I do want a family. Somehow.}" Her voice drops, small yet determined. "{One that wants me.}" She draws a quiet shuddering breath as she tries and fails to suppress the pull of her confused bittersweet longing. Her voice is a touch more stilted when she continues, "And maybe it's not fair to demand that from you." Lucien's hands curl together, lifting higher as his forehead drops to rest on his knuckles. Threads of feeling start to unravel in him, coming loose from where he's been carefully stitching his mind into order; guilt, warmth, a fierce protectiveness, a dull ache, a tight worry, each left to flutter freely for a moment before being tucked neatly back into place. "You've demanded very little, since you arrived." He lifts his head further, chin set on his fingers now and eyes fixed steadily on Sera. "{Do you want to stay with us? We are, as mentioned, rather a mess. And the emotional complications in either direction are -- not insignificant. Your brother was --}" The flicker of horror that starts to rise here is quashed with far more savagery than his other reactions. "{-- under some duress when arrangements were made. Perhaps we did you a disservice in giving you no options. There are others in our community who could care for you without this --}" His hand unfurls, fingers fluttering towards his face. "{Constant reminder. But if you do want to stay, believe me when I say that I want to have you.}" Sera slows her breathing and consciously pushes her own neurochemistry to align with Lucien's. Her efforts are still clumsy, but vastly improved in the months since her arrival. "You've all been so stressed out, and I'm sure that's not all because of me, but... Somewhere in the back of my head I was still worried if I made too much trouble you would want to rehome me." She looks down at the phone when it buzzes between her hands.
A wan smile plays across her lips, and some of her anxiety fades. "My Matt would have freaked out if I took off like this. I mean..." Her skinny shoulders hitch a very small shrug that does not match the sudden rush of grief and loneliness her words bring up. "...for pretty good reason." Resting her chin on her knees, she studies Lucien right back. "{I know. I've thought about that a lot: if it were just the government, I could have gone to Québec with Gae. There must have been something else, something awful, for him to believe I could only be safe in another world. And for you to accept me.}" She swallows hard. A rush of warmth and hope momentarily drowns her misery. Still, her voice quivers when she finally answers, "{I want to go home. I can't do that, but maybe...}" Her fingers trace invisible curlicues on the smooth glass of her phone's screen. "{I do want to stay. I just wish everyone else was as sure as you.}" "If we kicked people out for being troublesome I don't know that any of us would be left," Lucien says, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "I think there has been many a time my siblings wished I were --" His mouth twists slightly to one side; for a moment his hyper-regimented mental buzz flattens itself down hard into something aggressively quieter and altogether less strikingly distinct from the other minds in the hotel around them. Only a moment, though, before he shakes his head; his thoughts tumble back into his precise patterning. "-- someone else. {I cannot speak for them. I know it has been hard. Will be hard. It took us time and patience to figure out how to build a life together before. We can figure it out again.}" | |
