[ closed ] one for the organ, and one for me

[stray_gunner]

Who: Remus Lupin (lumenrelegandus ) and Heine (stray_gunner )
When: March 12th, afternoon-ish.
Where: An undetermined street in Anatole and Lupin's accommodations.
Format: Paragraph-y.
What: Tea and biscuits with the professor.
Warnings: Heine possibly drinking tea (I know, terrifying). Also bad language, probably.

Comments

[lumenrelegandus]

Coming down the street in the opposite direction, Lupin had one arm full of groceries (which, by physics alone, shouldn't be balancing so successfully) and new (to him) books under the other.

The groceries were a little more varied than usual. They were mostly just for him, since Io tended to fend for herself. The novelty of Anatole of him being able to enjoy a steady income had upgraded recently to utter vertiginous amazement at now having disposable income. As sparse and plain as the ingredients were, compared to his usual, they were downright gourmet.

The books, having always been a higher priority than interesting (or entirely nourishing) food, were a characteristically motley batch.

• The unexpected irresistible remnant of Earth: today he'd found the muggle novel Watership Down;
  
• to balance, something fictional or cultural from any Scorched-represented world other than his own: today a cautionary fairy tale about the L'Cie from Hope (and Vanille?)'s world, Cocoon;
  
• no wizarding books today but there had been something that might be a obsessively subtextual/coded Shinigami manual;
  
• and anything that surfaced even tangentially relating to the legends or history of Anatole, especially the Veneficus.

These, likewise, were held in place by more than his elbow. Which proved a good thing as he caught sight of Heine and stopped in his tracks.

"Hullo," he called, caught between surprise and trying not to spook him.

[stray_gunner]

There must be some sort of conspiracy against him, or at least a series of unfortunate coincidences behind this, Heine decided when he heard Lupin calling out behind him. This was the second time in two weeks that he'd bumped into someone he didn't really want to talk to on the street, which meant two more meetings than he was willing to deal with.

He sighed quietly and stopped walking, grudgingly waiting for Lupin to come at least a little closer. He couldn't really pretend that he hadn't heard - the older man wasn't very far away at all.

"What do you want?" Heine muttered, at least sounding more tired than irritated. I don't want to talk to you, he wanted to add, but waited for Lupin's reply first. He did owe him something for all that Lupin had done (and hadn't done), after all, even if he didn't want to admit it.

[lumenrelegandus]

Lupin raised an eyebrow and tried to look neither amused nor resigned.

"To work out a new form of greeting," he said with a dry smile.

(Somewhere intangible, Sirius pricked up his ears at this faint echo of school banter.)

He glanced over his shoulder, back the way he'd come. "You're heading to the market?"

[stray_gunner]

"Is that it?" A faint scoff as he crossed his arms loosely and paused.

He didn't have to wait for long. Of course he was going to the market - oh, no, he was just out for a pleasant walk because he was obviously that kind of person, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he was being unfair. It wasn't (all) Lupin's fault, but -- well.

"Yeah," Heine mumbled. "Why're you asking?"

[lumenrelegandus]

Perhaps it's been working with River, the only contrast to damage being normalcy; to incurable weight, lightness. Perhaps he's just been worn down; all that's left is casual. Whatever the case: Nothing forced endures. He'll not give up, but only have to do with Heine what Heine will have to do with him.

So, disregarding the smolder, as if it were perfectly average for them to run into each other on the street, Lupin tilted his head in the direction of his flat. "This is where I live. I was about to make dinner. Would you like to join me?"

(Seems quite unconcerned with having Heine know where to find him. If necessary, make the wards earn their upkeep.)

[stray_gunner]

Waiting, watching, pretending not to care (or in most cases, really not caring). Heine waited, and watched, and Lupin just kept going.

It's a bit disorienting.

He was about to put a quick end to the offer, but he hesitated awkwardly. Heine didn't bother being polite, most of the time, but he probably owed the man something for the trouble that he'd put him through.

That didn't mean he would completely reform, though. So when he finally replied, it was with reservations: "Only for a minute." He had no real intention of actually staying, but maybe if he spent more than five minutes with him without trying to either run away or cause damage, Lupin would leave him alone.

[lumenrelegandus]

Oblivious to or ignoring the idea that Heine was doing him a favour, Lupin gave a quick smile and nod, and turned to lead the way to the front door.

He let Heine in first and locked the door after them. A thought gave him pause in the foyer and he said to Heine, "Would you please wait here a moment?"

Lupin went alone up a narrow flight of stairs. At the top was a second door, which Lupin unlocked, and went through in a rush. He closed the door behind him almost quickly enough for Heine not to hear a dog's welcome home bark.

[stray_gunner]

Trailing after Lupin like a large, slightly threatening looking child (or not a child at all, really), Heine stepped inside, only to look around warily. Unfamiliar places were always ignited an uncomfortable feeling in him, simultaneously irritated and nervous. This was no different.

Heine nodded abruptly, awkwardly, when Lupin asked. Standing quietly at the foot of the stairs, he only glanced up sharply when he heard the bark.

It wasn't that unsettling, really - he could deal with animals, even if they couldn't deal with him. Heine barely considered the idea that Lupin hadn't wanted him to see or hear the dog.

Still standing stiffly in the foyer, he made a cursory attempt at civil conversation: "Noisy dog."

(Yes, very civil.)

[lumenrelegandus]

Lupin's head popped back out through the door at the top of the stairs. He called, "Thank you, come on up."

He waited as Heine climbed toward him, and quirked a smile at the observation. "For him that was sedate. He doesn't know the concept of temporary absence. When you leave the flat, he thinks it's for good. Thus his… undiminishing zeal, to celebrate every return."

Standing back to allow Heine through, Lupin closed the second door behind them, and they were standing in an apartment that was strangely, comfortably mismatched. Lavishly glamorous decor of rich-textured upholstery, vivid-coloured carpeting and gothic-shaped table legs, in ridiculous but unjarring cohabitation with austerely functional library lamps, quirkish otherwordly framed pictures/maps, and an ongoing invasion of books. Material as mirror: representing the dynamic of the flat's two inhabitants. Whomever Lupin's flatmate was, they didn't seem to be home.

And, somewhere, presumably, a dog? As relieved as Lupin had seemed that Heine wasn't triggered bothered, the creature must be corralled elsewhere.

Lupin set the books he was holding, to join their ever broadening clan, on an end table; next to a device Heine may or may not recognise as a Victorian phonograph. He continued on with the groceries toward the kitchen.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, not pausing, giving no sign of how un-/likely he thought Heine capable of any such thing.

As the kitchen door swung open, Heine's sharpened hearing could catch the eager scrambling of canine claws on tile; instantly, unnaturally (magically?) muted as the door again closed.

[stray_gunner]

Heine ascended the stairs while looking back and forth, as if something was about to jump him from around the corner. It was more out of habit than true suspicion, though, and that was an intangible sign that he did, however slightly, trust Lupin.

"Okay," he agreed curtly, standing uneasily in the room. It wasn't just the strange conflict of elements of the room that unsettled him - it was the odd feeling that someone else lived here that resulted from the clash.

Being Heine, though, he didn't bother asking or voicing his discomfort. Instead, he edged towards one of the chairs and leaned against the arm and made a noncommittal sort of grunt as Lupin exited into the kitchen.

He waited quietly if not patiently, shifting his weight every few seconds and giving the phonograph (not that he recognized it) a few inquisitive looks.

...well, Lupin had said to make himself comfortable. And when he was curious, he wasn't comfortable. (Yes, his logic made excellent sense.) Heine touched the trumpet-like part of the machine carefully and just as cautiously ignored the sounds that the dog (both inside and out) was making.

[lumenrelegandus]

If Lupin could mute all sound through a thin wooden door, it stood to reason he could make tea very quickly, too. Only a few minutes later the door swung open again. Lupin set a tray with a kettle, cups and saucers down on the low table in front of the sofa, then nodded to the phonograph. "Do you want to see how that works?"

[stray_gunner]

Even if he wasn't gentle, he was careful. Heine brushed a fingertip along the rim of the sound-trumpet... thing. He really wasn't sure what it was, but at least it was distracting him from the extreme awkwardness of actually being inside someone else's house and not because he'd broken in to take down a criminal organization.

That said, the man started slightly when Lupin returned from the kitchen, jerking his hand back quickly.

"I don't care," he muttered. Still, he glanced back at it even as he turned to face the other man.

[lumenrelegandus]

Smiling slightly, Lupin continued to disregard Heine's discomfort. He walked around Heine-right around him, well within punch-range-to pick up a nearby record. Coming back to the phonograph, he slid it out of its envelop and put it gently into place. His back blocked Heine's view of exactly what set it all in motion, but as he placed the needle, still more gently (such delicate machinery, how could it be of any use at all…?), out of the trumpet, the music began.

[stray_gunner]

Heine didn't say anything about the proximity, but went tense until Lupin was a decent distance away. Watching the professor carefully set the phonograph from behind, the albino said nothing but didn't look away.

Without commenting on the actual song, Heine crossed his arms as Lupin set the needle to the record, expression still somewhere between blank and irritated. Finally, he asked, "Why records?" Not an odd question, exactly, but somewhat out of the ordinary for Heine.

[lumenrelegandus]

"It's been said, if you're willing to mix sensory metaphors, that records have a warmer, softer feel than other methods of playback. On my world it's a relic, a historical piece that one can feel like a connoisseur for hanging onto, even if it's not the most durable or convenient. Logistically, magic and electronics technology don't usually mix. Spellcasting causes them to malfunction or short out. Forges are the first electronic device I've seen withstand-even exhibit, magical influence. Mechanical technologies seem to fare better. In any case, whether or not for that reason, Door-retrieved records seem to be in good supply at Berend's and the Market, while other musical devices aren't."

As the song came to an end, he lifted the needle and the music stopped.

"Mostly, enjoying records is something my flatmate and I found we have in common. It's something we can share. So we collect them together."

[stray_gunner]

"Why don't they work together?" Heine asked after a moment.

Still, about half of what Lupin was saying went directly over Heine's head, and he wasn't thoughtful or well-mannered enough to pretend that he had understood it.

"Right," he said after a moment. Hesitating for a moment, he went on and asked, "Flatmate?"

He had noticed the clash of culture-lifestyle-everything, but now was an opportunity to ask. Furthermore, the style was oddly familiar in a way he couldn't place.