[ with weyland in nyc ]

[tragic_mask]

They step through the door, and find themselves on the cracked sidewalk outside of a lively bar. A sign glows: "Blue Owl."

It's nighttime, but the city still glows with all kinds of light, and shakes with the noise of honking, shouting, music, the clinking of glasses, all blending together into the cacophony and symphony of the city.

Melpomene looks around. "Well, we're back... Right where I started."

Comments

[mechanicalswans]

He will follow her into the building once the door is open, a brief scan of the names on the mailboxes if there are any in the entryway.

[tragic_mask]

And the door swings shut behind them.

"I'm three floors up." Melpomene's voice echoes around the building as she begins to climb the stairs.

[mechanicalswans]

"Mine's on the second floor, over an Indian restaurant," he says, following her. "I find that living over restaurants is very convenient."

[tragic_mask]

"Yes," she says wryly. "Until you get sick of the food they offer." They continue up the spiral staircase, up and up.

[mechanicalswans]

"It was an Italian place when I first moved in, and then it was a Turkish one for a while, and now Indian. By the time I move out, it will probably be a sushi bar, if it continues its eastward move."

He doesn't mind stairs, at least. They're not as awkward for him as they had been before his metal alterations.

[tragic_mask]

She stops in front of her door, and gets out another key, and fiddles with the lock. "There, finally home."

[mechanicalswans]

"Do you have any pets?" he asks, glancing to the door. "Anything that may escape when you open the door, anyway."

[tragic_mask]

"Only metaphorically." She pulls him inside.

[mechanicalswans]

"Wonderful," he smiles, as he is pulled inside.

[tragic_mask]

"Yes, that's me," she says, a bit wryly, and switches on the light.

[mechanicalswans]

He glances around as she turns the light on, then looks back to her. "'Has a way with words,' that's on the list too."

[tragic_mask]

"I'd better," she says, with an unabashed smile.

[mechanicalswans]

"Are you still feeling tired?" he asks. "Or do you have something in mind?"

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, I wasn't tired. Just comfortable."

[mechanicalswans]

"Well, we shall have to get comfortable again. Unless you want to go back to Milliways tonight, but I think one door is enough for one night."

He unbuttons his jacket and slides it off.

[tragic_mask]

"Yes, I agree." She takes his jacket, and hangs it neatly on a hook by the door. "Too much jumping across the universe and there might be side effects."

[mechanicalswans]

"We wouldn't want side effects, would we," he murmurs, watching her. "I don't suppose you have anything to drink? Anything without caffeine would be fine, alcoholic or not."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh, so you don't want caffeine because you're not ready to party all night?"

She goes into the kitchen and examines the contents of the refrigerator. "Let's see... Tequila reposado, or... iced tea. Those are all the non-drugged options I have for you."

[mechanicalswans]

"Tequila, I think," he says, following her toward the kitchen but loitering in the doorway. "I can party all night without the caffeine, and without being jittery. Some days I can handle it perfectly fine, but I think that tonight I have had enough excitement that it would not go well. You don't really want to see me with lower inhibitions and my thoughts going much more quickly."

[tragic_mask]

"If you say so," she says, attempting not to let her imagination take her places. She gets down two glasses from the cabinet and pours a fair amount of tequila into each, then comes towards him.

"Here you go."

[mechanicalswans]

"Thank you," he says, taking his glass. "I'm getting the feeling that I spend much more time at home than you do... but there is a great deal more to do in New York than where I am, and my work does not involve other people directly."

[tragic_mask]

"That might be it..." She looks around, and moves over to the couch in the living room. "Maybe I should have invested more time in making this place look homey."

[mechanicalswans]

"Antique shops," he says, following her in and having a seat on the couch. "Things from there come with a history already, much better than buying them new. And if people ask, you can say they are family heirlooms. I did that, for a while."

[tragic_mask]

"Well." She hesitates. "I haven't had that problem in a while, to be honest. I don't have many guests."

She's reluctant to admit how lonely she is, normally, but it seems to be seeping into the conversation anyway.

[mechanicalswans]

"My apartment is lucky to see a dozen people besides myself and my mechanical companion in a year," he says with a light shrug. "Those who do come are generally only couriers or members of the court, they don't stay for dinner or anything. It feels more... personal, more vulnerable to entertain at home. I rarely ever do it."