ArchivedLogs:Antagonist

Antagonist
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Steve	2017-09-25 "{I'm very concerned with 'should' and 'shouldn't' in most things, as you might have noticed.}"
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Backyard - Greenwich Village
Living in the heart of Manhattan means space is precious, and as such, the yard behind this house is small. It is as exquisitely well-kept as the rest of the place, though; all available space has been meticulously cultivated and transformed into a lush retreat from the concrete and asphalt of the city. The borders of the garden are lined in a wealth of flowers, the selection chosen to provide a panoply of color in all seasons save winter. A grassy rock-bordered pathway separates these from the raised-bed vegetable garden that dominates its center. The far left corner of the garden plays host to a tiny rock-lined pond, goldfish and a pair of turtles living in its burbling water. To one side of the pond is a garden table and set of chairs and presiding over the pond, a large oak tree with a hammock underneath, its branches spreading out over the tall brick wall that screens the entire area off from the city outside. It's a perfectly lovely afternoon, pleasant and warm. Flèche is lying under the table, extremely occupied with a frozen yogurt-filled bone, the grinding tooth sounds accompanied by intermittent tail thumps against the ground. Lucien, actually settling /at/ the table, is checking the timer on his phone, only vaguely relaxing when he satisfies himself that it is a while yet before his soufflés are to come out of the oven. He curls his hands around his tea, frowns down at the scones on the table. Takes a small and disgruntled sip before almost immediately -- apologetically -- beginning to rise again. Preemptively reaching for Steve's cup like he has a mind to steal it from the other man's hand. "{I oversteeped this.}" Steve is still in his work clothes, pale blue dress shirt and gray slacks, though he has removed his tie if he wore one at all. His shield and its harness are hanging from the back the chair in which he sits. He's just taking a sip of his own tea when Lucien reaches for it. "{Oh! It tastes fine to me, but I haven't your refined palate.}" He surrenders the cup easily. "I don't want to make you feel like a poor host, though, and if you're making a new pot anyway." Lucien's tongue clicks dismissively against his teeth when Steve says it tastes fine. Lips compressing faintly, he whisks the cups away inside. A few minutes later, returns, mugs refilled and steaming. "{There's such a difference.}" His insistence is mild as he sets a cup down in front of Steve. He settles back at the table, fingers wrapping around his own mug. "{I don't suppose you have any interest in attending a football game next weekend?}" Sort of offhand. He is still giving his tea an extremely critical eye. Steve is frowning at his smartphone by the time Lucien returns, but he sets the offending device aside and receives his tea with a smile. "{Thank you, and I will take this comparison as a learning experience.}" Though he does not take a sip immediately, but inhales the vapor rising from it. "{You mean American football? Probably not in a vacuum, but I will happily attend just about any sporting event for the right cause or in the right company.}" "{Is entertainment value cause enough? This weekend's singer for the Giants game is having a mild snit over the ongoing problem of black players having troublesome opinions. Conveniently,}" Lucien's hand turns up, "{Ryan was available to come sing the anthem instead.}" His hand drops back to the cup, curling tight around it. "{I don't suppose Jackson could be cajoled into coming? He could leave again right after kickoff.}" "{I was about to wonder aloud just how much of a fuss Ryan could cause when he's working with a preordained piece,}" Steve allows, "{but then I realized that was selling him massively short. Certainly I will go, and I will work on Jax.}" He finally tastes the freshly brewed tea, brows knitting with concentration. "It does taste a bit...different." He doesn't actually sound all that certain, here. Picking up a scone, he studies Lucien carefully, eyes lingering on the hands gripping the mug tighter than really seems necessary. "{What's going on?}" The question is soft, but matter-of-fact. "Is it not good?" Lucien has not, in fact, touched his own tea yet; nevertheless his eyes widen with mild alarm, darting solicitously to Steve's cup. If he has designs on stealing it /again/, though, they are forestalled by the question. His brows hitch slightly upward. "Pardon?" "Oh, no, it's delicious!" Steve clarifies, hastily shifting his cup away from Lucien. "I just meant that -- well, the first cup tasted delicious, too." His smile is thin, sheepish. "{You seem...a /bit/ on edge.}" "{The first cup was oversteeped.}" Only /faintly/ testily. Lucien at least isn't reaching for Steve's cup. He closes his eyes, one hand lifting to rub slowly at the bridge of his nose. "Ah --" A beat of hesitation. "My apologies. I am -- not the best of company today, am I? I will be more lively after the caffeine, no doubt." Steve lets off guarding his tea, though he still puts it down on the other side of him, away from Lucien. "I wasn't /complaining/, just -- concerned. I'm your friend, not your client." He frowns faintly. "Well, not the kind of client who pays you for pleasant company. I find your company quite pleasant anyway, caffeine or no." There's a touch of colour in Lucien's cheeks when his eyes open again, lifting to meet Steve's. "Some days," softly, as he finally lifts his tea, drawing in a slow breath of its steam, "you must admit, the caffeine does help." He lowers the cup, tea yet again untouched. "{Forgive me. It's been -- something of a week.}" "Caffeine /always/ helps." Steve gives a faint and breathy chuckle as he lifts his cup for another sip. "We're both addicts, even if the effect is mostly psychological for me." He takes a bite out of the scone and washes it down with tea. "But the tea /is/ very good, I assure you. {I forgive you. Tell me about your week, then.}" Lucien's brows pull just slightly together. He draws in a breath, gives his head a very slight shake, after a long pause. "{I'm -- just dwelling on a bit of nothing, really.} You know," lighter, amused, "I could help you with that addiction." "{It's not nothing if it's preoccupying you so.}" Steve makes short work of the rest of his scone and starts on another. "That's good to know, and I may take you up on it, someday. I would much rather if the caffeine just does what caffeine is supposed to do, but even if my dependency is /imagined/, it's still something I enjoy sharing with..." The corner of his mouth twitches, ".../normal people./" "{Take me up on --}" Lucien's fingertips touch lightly to his lips. "Oh, goodness. {I certainly had no mind to /cure/ you of addictions. Only to drag you down with the rest of us. I can make you /feel/ the caffeine.}" There's a quiet amusement in his explanation. "In case you ever start feeling too far distant from /normal/ people." His hand lowers -- his eyes lower. "{Nothing,}" clarified quieter, "{that should preoccupy me half so much. Certainly not with tea and such excellent company here.}" "Oh! {I didn't know what was...}" Steve smiles broadly now. "{But yes, if it would not be very troublesome for you, I would like that. It's been /years/ since I've had a caffeine buzz.}" His next sip of his tea is followed by a wistful sigh, perhaps just slightly played up. He tilts his head slightly to one side. "{I'm very concerned with 'should' and 'shouldn't' in most things, as you might have noticed, but...you feel what you feel. It's no insult to me -- or to you -- that you're preoccupied.}" Lucien sits up a little bit straighter. One hand extends across the table, turning palm-up on its surface. His fingers curl slightly inward, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "{I could be a great deal more usefully preoccupied. You still have much of that tea left.}" Steve's hesitation is fractional but noticeable. When he places his fingertips in Lucien's hand, though, his movement is confident, unafraid. As ever, his neurochemistry is operating both exceptionally well and exceptionally poorly. In addition to the familiar markers of chronic trauma and stress, there's a haze of worry and a startling well-managed fear. "{Looking after yourself is /useful/, too, you know.}" Lucien's fingers curl gently around Steve's. For a time there is nothing -- just his mind, careful and silent as it maps the patterns and functions of Steve's. The fear and worry he leaves; the stress he picks at some of the thornier edges of with a long-ingrained habit. Mostly, though, he focuses elsewhere; quietly assisting the tea in its duties; where it needs to block the right receptors, where it needs to influence others, where Steve's neurochemistry normally smoothly prevents it from doing any of this, Lucien's provides more efficient counteraction. He doesn't let go when he finally looks back up, a slight curl of smile on his face but his mind still carefully at work. "{I have a pup. And tea. /And/ you. What would you call that?}" Steve goes on sipping his tea, watching Lucien's face sort of sidelong, curious but perhaps a little perplexed, too. He doesn't seem to take notice of any change for a while, and then all at once just says, "/Huh./" And takes a much larger gulp of tea. "{Just like that? How do you --}" But he shakes his head. "{I doubt it is so easy to explain, but that's amazing.}" Now he puts his tea /down/ -- perhaps it's to stop himself just draining the rest of it at once -- and takes another scone. This time when he regards Lucien it's with a thoughtful smile. "{Monday evening, which I guess is the same thing. Thank you, though.}" Hesitant. "{Can you do that with /other/ substances?}" The chuff of breath Lucien exhales is extremely small. "{Just like that,}" he confirms, dryly. With his free hand he reaches out, lifts his own tea -- finally, to take a slow sip, rolling it languidly over his tongue. "{If you are genuinely curious, some time I will explain. I doubt I would get through it all before the souffles come out.}" His smile curls a little wider. "{About any intoxicants, yes.}" Steve narrows his eyes slightly. "{I'm getting the sense that means it isn't quite -- /just like that./ Though…}" He inclines his head. "{Maybe it is, if you are practiced enough?}" He nibbles at his scone, takes another dainty sip of tea. "{Simple or complex, it's still amazing. More amazing than /I/ know, I'm sure.}" His hand tightens around Lucien's briefly, a motion executed with extreme care, though it looks casual enough. "{You still haven't told me what's bothering you.}" "{I am,}" Lucien allows carefully, "{quite practiced.}" He takes another sip of his tea, fingers pressing gently back to Steve's hand. The working of his mind now is less easy to feel immediately, with the caffeine already doing his job -- working less on the immediate effects of caffeine and more on making sure it doesn't start to wear /off/ the moment he lets go. His head dips with a small lowering of eyes, a small twitch of lips. "{I doubt I would get through it all before the souffles come out.}" As if on cue, a buzzing from his phone. There's a faint sinking flutter of -- something inchoate and hard to pinpoint before it vanishes, some ephemeral feeling that doesn't quite have time to twist itself /properly/ into the knot it's been forming before it disappears. "{Ah.}" Lucien swipes the timer away. "{I should rescue those.}"