tushanshu | Verse 03 -- Video

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Verse 03 -- Video

[It is not a happy Jean Prouvaire who greets the world today.

Those who don't know Jehan might be able to tell that something's off. He almost looks sick, but not quite, and his clothes are in disarray. Those who do know Jehan?

They can tell right away that something is terribly wrong with the Romantic poet. He hasn't been out of his house in a few days--he hasn't left his house much at all since a few days before the snow day, actually, but in the last few days he's been a total recluse--and hasn't been seen on the network since Courfeyrac's last post. He's not looking at the feed like he normally does, his hands seem to be shaking a little, and he just seems off. Sleep has clearly been eluding the poet, too.

It takes a few minutes before he speaks. When he does, his voice is lacking his usual emotion. Still gentle, Jehan could never be anything but, but it's a bit flat]

I...I was wondering if someone...

[He bites his lip before trying again]

A-a flute. Does anyone know where I might--

[Another pause, this one longer. Jehan closes his eyes and shakes his head, reaching up to turn the feed off]

No, never mind.

[Just before he cuts the feed, the sounds of him starting to cry can be heard]

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Fire Sector, 2A.

[It is several hours later, when it's been dark for a while, that Jehan makes his way to Dorian's. He looks a bit better, but still not his best.

He knocks, suddenly doubting this decision.]

[Dorian gives him little time for doubt. He knows enough of the situation that he is a little surprised that Jehan even shows up. Dorian probably wouldn't have himself. So he gets to the door quickly, and comes with a smile.]

Come inside. Do you want anything to drink? I've anything Keeliai has to offer.

[It will run out, of course, that is inevitable. Either Dorian will consume what he has or he'll feel obliged to hand everything over to Steve's good-doer projects. But that doesn't matter to an immediate desire.]

[Jehan steps in, shaking his head]

No, you should save that. We are on rations, after all.

[When Dorian shuts the door behind Jehan, he is certain not to let it make any loud sound.] I did years of rationing worse than this. Trust me, this isn't a concern for me.

[He guides Jehan to the sitting room where an instrument quite like a piano takes a place just off of centre. Dorian frowns briefly. The carpet has been moving things behind his back again. He's going to have to start leaving it at Toby's suite during the days or something. But the expression passes quickly, and he ushers Jehan over to a sofa.]

But you might need it for something later. I will be fine.

[He lets Dorian lead him, shaking just a little as he sits down]

Is that the piano?

It is indeed. [Dorian notices but doesn't press. Instead, he flips open the lid of the piano and plays a scale. It sounds right, but it looks wrong; Dorian has to skip a key to get it right.] What do you think?

It sounds lovely.

[He didn't even notice the skipped key]

I didn't think they had them here.

If they didn't, I probably would've ended up making a plea for a skilled craftsman to build me one. [He plays the scale backwards, lingers and plays the opening notes of a Nocturne—then stops and moves back over to Jehan's side, to sit there and take his hand.] Name your pleasure and I'll make it yours. The night belongs to you.

Edited (WAIT I LIKE THIS PERFORMANCE BETTER) 2013-03-23 07:51 (UTC)

[Jehan grips Dorian's hand tightly]

Just...I do not know, Dorian. I simply needed to get out of my apartment and...I wanted to see you.

[A slight smile.] Well, here I am, for your viewing pleasure. The gallery is open all night and you can stay with the picture as long as you like. [There is no need for Jehan to be informed of the other little joke in that. Dorian strokes his thumb over Jehan's skin, tactile reassurance.]

Oh, no, I didn't meant to imply--

[He shakes his head. Dorian was joking. He knows that.]

Surely you will have to sleep soon?

Ah, not exactly. [Dorian breathes a laugh.] I've become a little nocturnal these days, so we're at about midday for me. I won't sleep until dawn.

Ah, I see. That does explain some things.

[Jehan smiles, trying so hard to be himself again. It's a weak smile]

I was worried you no longer enjoyed my company.

[Smiling, he shakes his head.] You've been reclusive. I thought you might have wanted space.

[Jehan flinches a bit at "reclusive"]

I hadn't meant to be. I...I could not stand to be around people. I still can't, not in large groups.

[Dorian considers him for a moment.] Are you certain you don't want something to drink? I promise, the rationing isn't a problem on this.

...perhaps I need one to...to relax a little.

[Dorian rewards him with a smile.] Perfect. [He places a kiss on Jehan's forehead before leaving him for the drinks cabinet, from which he retrieves a decanter and glasses. He sets them on the table and pours.] It's a bit like a kirsch, but much stronger. [When he sits, it is close enough to reassure with physical presence.]

A-a what?

[If Jehan knows what that is, he's forgotten in his breakdown]

[He idly brushes a hand over Jehan's arm.] Kirschwasser, a fruit brandy. From cherries. This one is a little sweeter than what you would find at home.

[Jehan leans into that touch as he tries the drink. Normally, he'd be able to choke it down without much of a problem if he dislikes it.

This time it's pretty obvious that this is way too sweet for the poet. He coughs it down, though]

A little?

Oh, it's not that bad. [He takes the glass away from Jehan.] I'll find you something more bitter.

In fact— [He sets down the glass, then takes Jehan by the arm and pulls him over to the cabinet. It is as well-stocked as you would expect, with dozens of bottles to match his mercurial moods.] Here, you pick one for yourself. Not a lot for selection, I know, but my cellar is back in England, I'm afraid. [He points] Reds and whites, fruit wines, rice wines, brandies grape and fruit, gins, rums, vodkas, whiskies, ports, liqueurs. You can have whatever you like.

[Musical instruments, tobacco, and alcohol: the primary consumers of Dorian Gray's income.]

Edited 2013-03-23 18:39 (UTC)

I don't mind sweet, but that was too sweet, even for me.

[Jehan's eyes go wide at the cabinet--if Grantaire becomes too unbearable during this rationing, perhaps he can convince Dorian to help him out--and spots a brandy that looks vaguely familiar]

May I?

[He smiles.] As I said, the choice is yours. [He tugs it free and places it in Jehan's hands.] Tell me if it's to your tastes.

voice ; private - yes, let's!

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