Chance Encounter

[nomorekaraoke]

Any given Sunday around this time of day (or night, as the case may be, sometimes) will find Lorne seeking the familiar comforts of his favourite tea house. Francis', named after its owner and proprietor, is a very hush hush place most readily accessible from smack dab in the middle of Manhattan's China Town. Or rather, the tea house itself can be accessed from China Town in various locations, should you know enough to gain entrance.

One needs only find the right door, knock on it twice, and speak the demonic pass word to be let in. Inside, the lone bouncer will gruffily jab a thumb at the wrought metal staircase winding its way down, down, down to the tea house proper. The moment one sets foot on the first step, the scents of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries will seize one's olfactory sense and urge one down the may twists of the staircase. There are three floors made available for guests and patrons alike, full of tables and plush armchairs and couches of varying shapes and sizes and color that blend into a warmth one seldom finds above ground. At the very bottom of the stairs is a polished wooden floor, coated with several layers of protective magic for those unfortunate demons to whom oak is toxic. To the side, a massive counter with all manner of treats available for inspection, all of which - rare though it may be for such establishments - are safe for human consumption.

Behind the counter stands Francis himself, rivalling the counter with his own gigantic, infectiously exuberant bulk, ever ready to take one's order.

In the far corner, blanketed by the warmth emanating from the nearby kitchens, sits Lorne enjoying his usual treat of very, very green tea and very, very scrumptious red bean pastries.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew brightens, looking up. "Yeah. Only just barely, in the middle of a bunch of other stuff, but I caught a showing. You?"

[nomorekaraoke]

He shakes his head minutely, making a slightly discontented face. "Never got the chance." But, having his spirits similarly brightened, he's got to ask one very important question. "How was it?"

[stilljustandrew]

"You didn't see it?" Andrew's face falls. "Oh, you gotta."

[nomorekaraoke]

Somehow, through no clear forethought, Lorne's expression softens. Seems like, for some reason, Andrew cares. It's a novel thought. "You really think I should? Then I think I will."

[stilljustandrew]

"It's totally worth seeing. Even if only for the Spider-Pig sequence."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Personally, I think I need to find out what BadBoy BartyPants is doing streak-boarding through the streets!" He chuckles, still remembering that part of the trailer with a measure of fondness.

"Not to change topics like some boys change girlfriends - suddenly and without warning - but... Are you still tip-toeing with Varadeem in a very professional manner?"

[stilljustandrew]

His eyebrows go up at the choice of new topic.

"I ... don't know if I'm at liberty to say," he hedges. "Why?"

[nomorekaraoke]

With the flair that is Lorne's and Lorne's alone, he scoots closer, hooking a finger at Andrew in a come closer motion. "I hear tell there's a fight brewing in the big cat camp."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah?" Andrew leans in, half-consciously, at the intimation of confidentiality. "Anything to do with the assassination attempts last year?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Hmm," the come here swiftly changes to the wagging hand of not quite sure. "No one seems to know why. But, I have on good authority he's crossed one of the senior members of his clan, and it's big."

[stilljustandrew]

"I thought he was the senior member of his clan," says Andrew doubtfully. "Unless we're talking about someone in his home dimension?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Senior as in ancient, pop tart. Lord Vayan is the highest ranking member of his clan, but this other gent, well... I don't have a clear notion of what kind of relative he is, but that scarcely matters. He's Varadeem blood, and they say he's pretty ticked off about the young gun going trigger happy. Or so I surmise. However... I wouldn't call Vayan trigger happy."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah, that's not a phrase I'd have picked to describe him." He frowns in thought. "How big a group does Clan Varadeem have here? I don't remember seeing any elders in Vayan's entourage."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Ah," Lorne says, tapping the side of his nose. "You're talking about the posse. The entourage. The fighters. They were roughly two dozen last I heard, but who knows with all that cloak and stabby business last year. But the grey mass? Oooh, I can't say."

[stilljustandrew]

"Huh." Andrew takes a bite of croissant and chews.

And, as an afterthought, offers Lorne the bag. "Want one?"

[nomorekaraoke]

His initial response would be to ask if Andrew's sure, if it's actually aimed at him - not entirely unlike Andrew's double take and glance over his shoulder when Lorne first called out to him.

This? This is what they call breaking bread. He reaches out with confidence, snagging the one closest to the opened bag. "I'd love one, darling. Thank you."

[stilljustandrew]

"Bitte," he says cheerfully, and takes another long drink of chai.

[nomorekaraoke]

"Well, look at you." He purrs, unable to resist some shameless flirtation. "Can't fault me for loving a man with a talented tongue, can you?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Uh," says Andrew, and doesn't seem to know how to finish that.



"...do you do this to everybody?"

[nomorekaraoke]

Floppy wrist is playfully floppy, as Lorne tilts his head to the side to watch Andrew more closely.

"Only to the cute boys and girls and other-genders. Why?"

[stilljustandrew]

He flushes a little, ducking his head unconsciously, with a very wry smile.

"New York demonhood's answer to Captain Jack Harkness," he quips.

[nomorekaraoke]

Watch carefully, Andrew, because this oh so very rarely happens that it might be the only time you get to see it.

Lorne bursts into a sudden bout of bubbling laughter.

[stilljustandrew]

A long beat, and then Andrew grins.

[nomorekaraoke]

It's the kind of laughter that warrants fanning your eyes so your make up doesn't run because you never bother about waterproof products, but he settles down in a moment.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or..." And then he seems to reconsider. "You know what? I think I am."

[stilljustandrew]

"What, for being compared to Jack Harkness? Absolutely," says Andrew, with great sincerity. "He's awesome."

And really good-looking too. Er.