Logs:Shielding

Shielding
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Steve
In Absentia	2022-06-12 "If Broadway's Captain America is going to lead the charge, the least Redhook's can do is back him up."
Location <NYC> Nazar - Theatre District
This rooftop bar may not be as slick and trendy as some of its Midtown peers, but serving up drinks, mezze, and hookahs into the small hours every night gives it a solid stream of business, especially in decent weather. The view from here is stunning, the noise and bustle of the city distant yet very much present. The rattan screens dividing the tables for some small semblance of privacy are festooned with cobalt blue glass eyes--the establishment's namesake--that glitter when they catch the city lights just so. Given it's late by most standards on a Sunday night, it wasn't difficult to secure a corner table with the best view of the downtown skyline and the lively Hudson docks festive against the dark sweep of the river. Steve is looking no worse for the long evening, still in a black tuxedo that flatters his legendary physique with a subtle edelweiss boutonnière at the lapel. He's nursing a glass of Connemara single malt, his eyes straying out over the shoreline. "It's kind of a foregone conclusion, but I think you're now officially the better Captain America here." He gestures between himself and his companion. "I never won any awards." His brows furrow slightly. "Not for the singing and dancing, anyway." The frown doesn't vanish but does soften when he looks back at Lucien. "Would you have wanted to go to the after-party, if they'd taken reasonable precautions?" Lucien is still dressed for the evening as well in midnight blue tuxedo virtually indistinguishable from black -- just enough to accentuate the clear ice blue of his eyes -- tailored in classic lines to draw attention away from the musculature he had gained for this role. He wears a humble edelweiss boutonnière to match Steve's, and his cufflinks are fashioned after Captain America's famed shield, but all in silver, the details of the star and concentric stripes picked out in deliberate tarnish. His exhaustion is more visible in his preternatural stillness than any particular slump to his posture. He's been savoring his own Scotch, eyes drifting out over the skyline and staying there even after Steve speaks. His eyebrow does raise at never won any awards, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. "They did not take precautions," he replies mildly. "I do have to admit, this --" His wrist rolls, tipping his glass out towards Steve, "-- is more my speed anyway." His gaze flicks towards Steve, if only briefly. "How do you feel about your Broadway debut?" Steve's smile comes easier now than it has all evening long. "Well, I don't know if it's the view or the whiskey or me, but I'm glad it's some relief. I know you don't like -- all that hullabaloo." He tips his glass in the vague direction of Radio City. "Working with you and the rest of your cast was an honor, and it felt good being cheered on because folks were entertained for once and not just because it's 'patriotic' or because I'm -- me." A faint blush rises on his cheeks. "Sounds a bit conceited," he admits. "Not looking to change careers, though, if I can even be said to have a career right now." He studies his friend steadily for a moment, then seems to catch himself. Looks down at Lucien's glass instead. "You mentioned they're going to stop taking precautions for the shows, soon." His lips compress. "How are you -- heck, your cast and crew and everybody -- planning to handle that?" "Oh, I do think people were quite delighted for you to be you. Just a more entertaining you than usual. Regrettably, I do not know how we can top this in future appearances. Three Caps?" Lucien takes a slow sip of his Scotch, lowering the glass to his knee and exhaling slow. "-- I do not want to resign, but I admit it is tempting. Our audiences often travel to see us, come from places this disease is still raging. I have Matthieu to think of -- though," he admits with a small frown, "I am far from the only one with such considerations." "Too easy. We could have had three Caps tonight if we gave Kaiden a shield, too." Steve rolls the tumbler in his hand, watching the liquor run down the inside of the glass. "Would make quite a statement if you resigned now," he muses. "Or, it could make a statement, and I'm sure you are more than up to it. Matt's health concerns are well known in these circles, so I suppose it might get written off as a 'special case'. But it's like you say..." He shakes his head. "...plenty of folks have sickly or elderly loved ones who would be endangered. Plenty of folks would be endangering themselves. For all the greed driving the 'business' end of show business, they must know getting their employees sick en masse is --" He comes up short, blinking. "You have a union..." "I do not think the owners of our theatres think any farther ahead than the next day's ticket sales." There's a dryness in Lucien's voice, his grip tightening on his glass. It eases as he lifts his eyes to the starless sky. "I do. We do. They also -- do not quite work for us as much as I would hope." His brows pinch, very faintly. "But they do work for us. I suppose if I were not the only one going out on such a limb --" He chases this thought with a slow swallow of his scotch. A very slight smile tugs at his mouth. "And, goodness, if we had Captain America's support behind us, perhaps someone might listen." "Bosses never change." The quirk of Steve's mouth is perhaps a smile but not at all humorous. "It's a shame the unions don't have the power they did when I was a kid. The Equity strike in '29 brought Hollywood to its knees, but they didn't always have that power, either, and you're not starting from nothing." He takes a sip of his whiskey, nodding with grave determination. "Me and Bucky stayed away from the movies for months during that strike, and I can do a helluva lot better than that now. If Broadway's Captain America is going to lead the charge, the least Redhook's can do is back him up."