ArchivedLogs:Offered Company

Offered Company
Dramatis Personae Doug, Lucien	2013-03-25 '
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. An early Monday evening seems a quiet sort of time for Montague's. At least this one does. The crowd is thin, with a number of tables available. Those that aren't are occupied by a mix of bohemian and decidedly /not/-bohemian types. A couple of men in black sweaters seem to be invoking beatnik spirits of old as they play a silent game of chess, each move almost in slow motion as it's made. At another table, a woman in Chanel suit talks quietly but heatedly into her bluetooth headset as she slathers butter on a rich-looking muffin. A pair of lovers entwine fingers over their table, murmuring whatever it is lovers say in these still moments. And in the middle of it all is Doug. The blonde sits wearily at a table, a steaming cup of cocoa sitting on the table in front of him. Around him, several bags from various clothing shops -- most not located in SoHo, their handles secured with a string that loops through them all and attaches to Doug's belt in a handy clip. Doug does not look like he was dressed for the shopping trip -- he's in snug, well-patched jeans and a sweatshirt with the Bat-Symbol on the chest. Currently, he's scrolling through his phone. Or maybe he's playing Angry Birds. Lucien is definitely in the /not/-bohemian crowd as he slips into the door, sharply dressed in a charcoal suit, sleek and tailored to his form. He is shedding his coat, his scarf, as he heads into the coffeeshop, though for the moment he leaves on his thin black gloves. His path to the counter takes him by Doug and all his bags, and he slows, stops, his eyebrows hiking up. "Goodness," he murmurs, glancing over the bags, "what prompted the wardrobe-restocking?" The familiar voice breaks whatever spell Doug's phone held, and he looks up at the other man with a wide, warm smile. "Lucien." There's a clicking noise as he locks his phone, shoving it in a back pocket. "Most of these aren't mine," he admits. "My mother's got a function on Thursday, and she decided nothing would do but we all had new clothes." He grins, and rolls his shoulders. "Which is mom-talk for 'I'm going to try and break the credit cards.' I'm just along for mostly muscle, to carry all this crap for her." 'Crap' may be overselling it, if one looks at the logos. "She thinks having a gay son who keeps in shape is like having a fashion expert and pack mule in one handy package." He motions to his own choice of clothing. "Clearly, she has not been paying attention." "Ah." Lucien's eyes sweep the room at this tale, absently curious. "Along. Is this shopping expedition still underway, then?" He folds his coat, draping it over his forearm as he -- perhaps he is doing a mother-/search/. But his eyes return to Doug after conducting this appraisal of the room. "Good to see stereotypes are alive and well." "Unfortunately," Doug says, glancing at the door. "I gave her the slip for a while via a little creative grumbling." He smiles, and wrinkles his nose. "I expect her to track me down, before too long," he says. "She'll sniff out her new clothes like a bloodhound." He chuckles at the observation, and shakes his head. "She watches too much network television," is his only explanation. "She wants me to be Will to her Grace or something." He says it with love, although his grimace is genuine enough at the same time. "How have you been?" "How many new clothes are really necessary, for one night?" Lucien glances over the bags again, curious. His hand moves to rest on the back of an empty chair, gloved fingers curling downward to drum against its back. "-- Will to her Grace --" This draws a slightly puzzled frown from him, but he does not spend long thinking about it. "Glad for spring. And you?" Doug laughs. "Oh, when Mom gets us new outfits, it's all-new from the bottom-most layer. Plus, she needs three dresses to go through before she ends up putting on the first one." He says this with the tone of someone who has been subjected to this on more than one occasion. "It's a TV show," he offers helpfully, of Will & Grace. "About a sad-sack redhead and her obnoxiously stereotypical gay friend." He makes a face. "You haven't missed anything if you haven't seen it yet." He motions that Lucien is free to join him, even pulling his cocoa closer to himself to make room. The responding question gets a scrunch of his nose. "If I say that I'm getting better, will you not worry at it, too much?" He waves a hand. "I've actually been doing pretty good," he amends. "I took some new friends on a tour of the city, last night. It was fun." "I will not worry at things you do not wish to talk about." The invitation to sit tightens Lucien's fingers against the chair-back, though he doesn't pull it out. "Fun. Mmm. That /is/ good to hear. As are friends. It sounds a refreshing change of pace from some of our previous conversations." "Oh, it's not that I'm unwilling to talk about it, but I feel like most of our conversations lately have been about /my/ woes, and that's not being a very good friend to you." Doug lifts a shoulder, closing his eyes in a bit of a rueful expression. "I mean, there's more to you than just some guy I run into when I'm feeling down or whatever, and I should respect that." He leans forward, to claim his cocoa and blows on it lightly before he takes a sip. "Oh, it was a lot of fun," he says, smiling widely. It looks a bit odd, with cocoa-mustache decorating his upper lip. "Parley and Kay were pretty excited about going, and that always adds to the fun. And it was nice to have some good old fashioned happy again." "A good friend." This puts a smile on Lucien's lips, small and brief, flitting there and vanishing before it has time to warm the brilliant green of his eyes. "Most of our conversations have revolved around that, it is true. Perhaps," he says, lightly, "you simply have more woes than I do." He straightens, lifting his hand to tug off first one glove and then another. Both are tucked into a pocket of the jacket hanging over his arm. His hand returns to the back of the chair. "Good old fashioned happy." The smile returns. Stays, even, though there's a quiet reserve to it that leaves it shy of /warm/. "Yes, I imagine it would be. Where did you go? I admit that for all I have been in the city for years, I rarely see the, ah, tourist sort of sights." "Maybe," Doug agrees in an equally light tone. "Or I could just be a bigger whiner than you are. Either way, it's unbalanced." The cooling liquid on his lip makes him finally notice it, and his next words come from behind the napkin he lifts to wipe it away. "Yeah. It was nice. I may have to more stuff like that." He crumples the napkin, tucking it politely beneath the rim of his saucer. "Oh, we went to the Empire State building, first. So Parley could see what was left of the sunset. Then I took them to all the places I could think of as being tourist-y. Lincoln Center, the MoMa, Carnegie Hall..,we tried to squeeze as much in as we could before it got too late." He grins. "It will probably require a second tour, to see it all. You're welcome to join us." "Life is generally unbalanced. Are your friends from out of town? Will they be here long?" Lucien is looking away from Doug, now, glancing up towards the front to look at the cashier. "Join you?" He still looks up towards the menu, but his eyebrows raise in apparent surprise. "Oh, goodness. That is very kind of you to offer." "They just moved into the building," Doug affirms, nodding into his cocoa. "They're new to the city, but it looks like they'll be sticking around for a while." He grins up at Lucien, lapping cocoa foam from the corner of his mouth. "It was a genuine offer," Doug says. "I enjoy your company, and I'm fairly certain that Parley would, too. He's quiet and thoughtful, like you," Doug explains, pinkening a bit as he offers what is clearly meant as a compliment. "You're welcome to join me now, as well," he says, noticing the mild distraction. "Once you've ordered, I mean." "That will be nice. For you, no? To have --" Lucien hesitates, dropping the word, "friends," cautious-light. His gaze lowers, looking down to his hands. His fingers drum against the chair. Staccato-quick. The smile that turns up his lips is staccato-quick, too. "That is good to hear. I'd be out a profession if people didn't enjoy my company. Parley, is his name?" His eyebrows raise at that. "Unusual." Doug affects a mock-hurt expression at the question, and puts a hand to his chest. "Hey, I have /friends/," he says. "Maybe not a ton, but the few I do consider my friends are quality people." He grins, then and leans forward, tucking his feet up under his chair. "I suppose it would be difficult, if you were disagreeable," he agrees slowly, choosing the words carefully. Fortunately the question distracts him from potential embarrassment. "Parley is the name he gave me," he says with a bit of a helpless tug of his mouth. "But it seems to suit him. I hope you get a chance to meet." "I do not doubt that," Lucien answers with an apologetic tip of his head. "I just mean from previous conversations, it seems an improvement. To have people to spend time with." His eyes stay focused downwards, his fingers still tapping in quick-drumming rhythm. He watches their movement with apparent care. "Difficult. Yes. Though I suppose some people /like/ disagreeable. But only, ah, in the correct context. -- Do you?" His eyebrows raise. "Why is that?" "I have been a bit lonely, lately," Doug agrees easily, crinkling his eyes at Lucien. "But, I think that might have been the weather, and other stuff going on. I'm using Spring to clean all that away." He makes a dismissive gesture near his chest, and dusts his hands together. The question gets another crinkle of his eyes. "Because I think he's interesting, and I think you're interesting, and I think you two might get along." He furrows his brow. "Not, y'know, as boyfriends, or a client thing, but just in general." He tilts his head. "Have you never had two friends who you wanted to introduce to each other?" "I hear spring is a good time for that. Cleaning. Starting fresh. I did my sprucing-up at the equinox. You should see my kitchen floor, it gleams." Lucien's brows draw together, briefly, the expression soon smoothing out. "No," he answers, simply. "My bathroom floor gleams," Doug notes, his mouth pulling downward thoughtfully. "Of course, that's because it's new." He grins. "Had a pipe burst last week. Big mess." Lucien's confession gets a deeper frown. "No, as in you don't have two friends you'd like to introduce, or no in that you've never had that occurence in your life?" "I have many friends," Lucien answers mildly, his lips twitching upwards at the corners. "I suppose I just have never felt any compulsion to bring my social circles together. I am sorry to hear about your pipes. You would hope spring should put an end to that kind of hazard." "I might have a bit of my mother in me," Doug drawls, wrinkling his nose at the other man. "She plans those big fund-raisers and dinners and stuff, so she's always thinking of who to sit next to whom, and all of that. I guess I'm doing the same thing." He lifts a finger. "But, in my defense, I only suggest it because I think you two might hit it off. You'll notice I do not say that you should meet Kay. He's a little rough around the edges." He grins, and leans his chair back on two legs. "So, it's not like I think all my friends should be BFFs with each other. Just the ones that get along well." He rolls his eyes at the observation, his mouth quirking lopsidedly. "Tell me about it. I'll be glad to see consistently warm weather once again. This back and forth business lost its charm two weeks ago." "Rough around the edges." The twitch of Lucien's lips fades, his eyes lifting slowly back to the menu board. "I suppose I can see how you might think that a problem." He straightens, with an apologetic dip of his head. "Please. Forgive me. I just came for a coffee. I should likely be on my way, I have someone waiting. I do hope the rest of your week continues to go well." Doug frowns, and tips his chair back upright. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean that you couldn't be friends with someone like Kay," he says apologetically. "I just meant that...he was a little much for /me/, at first, and..." he gropes for an explanation, and comes up empty, evidenced by the deep furrow in his brow. He exhales sharply, and slumps back in his seat. "I'm sorry," he says, and rubs at his face. "That was a dumb assumption on my part." He glances at the counter, then back at Lucien with a regretful expression. "Sure," he says, waving his hand as he looks towards the door. "My mom should be along any minute, anyway. And I shouldn't keep you." He lifts his eyebrows, and offers a watery little smile. "It was good seeing you again, Lucien. I hope your week goes well, too." "Sorry?" Lucien looks puzzled at this, and his smile returns, quick and small. "As I said, there is someone waiting. Take care, Doug." His head inclines, polite, and he heads up towards the counter, to obtain himself a drink -- chai, as it turns out, not coffee -- and head out.