Participants:
| Scene Title | Kinna Complicated |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | As Felix explains, things are kind of complicated. That includes feelings. And actions. |
| Date | February 21, 2011 |
Bowling. It was Graeme's suggestion for a 'good time', though he had to explain the rationale behind it to Remi, when he first brought it up. It's also a small apology to his roommate, for having spent nearly all of his time out, since yesterday.
So late in the afternoon, Remi and Graeme arrive at the bowling alley. He flashes Remi a smile. "So, bowling," he says. "We're here." The man is tired, a bit, but that hasn't stopped him yet. Neither does being tired stop the habitual wariness, as Graeme glances around the bowling alley, silently (at least, to everyone but Remi) assessing it.
He's a far cry from the figure who shows up in the news. Fel's funnily unassuming so far off duty. He's just a skinny guy in jeans and a Moscow Dynamos jersey, glasses perched on his long nose. Eyestrain headaches are no joke, even if you're a superhero. Only the haircut really gives him away. He's bowling with an older man at one of the farthest lanes - from the snippets of conversation in Russian, it must be a kinsman. And the same blue eyes, albeit in a very wizened little face, would seem to bear that out.
Remi curls her lip up at the shoe rental counter as they step into the bowling alley, her arm wrapped around Graeme's. Physical boundaries apparently mean nothing to Remi. At least, not when it comes to the man she shares a home with. Besides, it keeps women from hitting on him, or so her theory goes. She reaches one hand out, a perfectly manicured nail pointed toward the rental counter.
"I'm getting my own shoes for zis. And I'm getting my own bowling ball. None of ze disgusting germs." She nods sagely. Remi has actually never been bowling, but she's not about to share sweat and who knows what else with other people. So gross. Her mind is doing its own silent assessment, scanning the bowling alley for any familiar voices, any mentions of her name.
It's easy to be paranoid when you have money.
She notices one familiar voice, in particular. The Russian, and it sounds like that guy her room mate was hitting on. Blue eyes are drawn toward Felix, brows raised. Ohhh, this will be fun!
Graeme nods, an understanding smile to her statement, and they pause at the counter, where he handles for the both of them buying shoes, buying a bowling ball of the right weight for Remi to use and a slightly heavier one for himself. "These should be perfect." Then, his gaze is drawn to follow his roommate's, as he takes the bag which contains their shoes, and the bowling balls, easily in his free hand. After a moment, he disentangles himself from Remi, with a bit of a smile as he recognises Felix. Albeit an awkward smile.
There's no awkwardness on Felix's part. Only genuine welcome. The glasses and the loose jersey make him look much younger, like some teenager just home from bootcamp. "Hello there," he says, amiably, in English. The little old man - essentially a gnome, looks up from his inspection of the recently returned bowling balls to eye them curiously.
Shaking her head, Remi rolls her eyes. "I can buy my own shoes, you know. I am better off zan you." She doesn't even have to pay for her own apartment, seeing how it is already paid off. Utilities is the only thing she really has to worry about. Still, she doesn't object. She'll just slip the money to pay him back into his wallet when he's sleeping. And she knows when he sleeps.
"Zdraste vuytye, Felix!" Remi calls out a cheerful greeting to Felix in his native tongue, her intonation only slightly marred by her French accent. One hand raises to wave at the man as Graeme entangles himself, the redhead turning an almost impish grin toward Graeme.
Ooh la la, Graeme. It's your boyfriend!
"Hey." This is a high note in Graeme's day, it would seem, by his tone of voice. And then, Graeme turns, hands Remi the bag with her shoes in it, sets his own shoes and the two bowling balls down on the nearest seat as he turns rapidly around to face Remi, from having been moving a step towards Felix.
Oh come on, Remi. He rolls his eyes at her. The silent exchange must look pretty damn funny for anyone observing it. Another silent comment follows. Not that I don't like him, but. You're awful, you know? The last bit is endearment, though, or at least fond. He's not really mad.
The greeting in Russian makes the gnome perk up yet further, and Felix's grin broadens. He returns it, and is echoed by the little old man. Fel's pleased and a bit confused and rueful to see Graeme again, it's clear. Caught, for some reason. "You know them?" wonders the old man to Felix, calmly running his hand over the ranked bowling balls. The one he chooses is a horrible neon yellow, clearly intended for those glow bowling nights intended to appeal to kids.
So awful, calling out the truth! I should start singing that silly song that American children sing. The one that involves spelling out 'kissing'. In your head. Or maybe I'll just sing that lambchop song to you. I'm a master at getting songs stuck in heads. You better watch yourself, I will do it. Remi grins at Graeme as he hands her the shoes, pulling any stuffing out and pulling them on. Wow, he knows her shoe size, and these are pretty comfy. She'll let Graeme have his moment.
You know, only little children sing that song, Graeme thinks, shooting Remi yet another look. That done, he sits down in the nearest seat, pulling out the bowling shoes that he'd purchased for himself, slowly, carefully. Graeme is genuinely tired, and it shows, but he grins, standing up and stretching for a long moment, before he glances between Felix and the older man with him. "How're you?"
"I do. This is Graeme, and that is Remi, his housemate. New friends of mine," Fel says, with an oddly gentle assurance. "This is my grandfather, Mikhail Ivanov," he adds, gesturing towards the older man, who offers a brisk nod, and steps up to take his turn. Not an experienced bowler, it is immediately obvious.
Remi offers a wave to the older man, smiling brightly. Then, she busies herself with lacing up her shoes, falling quiet. Well, her voice is quiet. Her mind isn't. Don't make me get an annoying song stuck in your head.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Ivanov." Graeme smiles to Felix's grandfather, before shooting another look at Remi. Then, he busies himself by walking back over to the counter, arranging for himself and Remi to use the empty lane near where Felix is. You wouldn't. When he returns, Graeme offers Felix a broad grin. "You were right, last time, by the way." And that statement might be enough to explain the silent interchange between Graeme and his roommate.
Fel looks….wry. And immediately goes somewhat pink. The old man's gaze is sharp, as he glances between the three of them. "A pleasure," he says, in a raspy voice. And then blithely heaves his ball overhand down the lane, like a shotputter. Felix winces. It is a perfect strike.
Then you'd better watch yourself! She finally puts her shoes on, wiggling her toes within as she stands up. Then, she's moving over to her bowling ball, testing it out. Oooh, she's going to have to be careful not to break a nail. He was right last time?
Graeme's wince at the throw is transformed into muffled amusement, and a slight amount of applause. Then, Graeme merely raises his eyebrows a bit, at Felix. One hand raises to touch his cheek, disguised as running his fingers through the slight bit of stubble, but really a way to double check that he's not blushing. He is, just a tinge, less visible in the light, but enough to make him bite down on his lower lip a little nonetheless. He turns to Remi. "Would you like me to go first?" He'll show her the basics either way, but the offer is there. Conversation aloud also lets him ignore her silent question.
Fel doesn't, though. He's guessed she's not a touch telepath. He's watching Graeme with longing uncertainty, though there's an image of a beautiful blonde young man for an instant. But he distracts himself with trying to show his grandfather how it's done. He, unlike his grandpa, is a decently skilled bowler, and he propels the ball down the lane. Only a few pins topple, though, and the old man says with satisfaction, "You see. My way is better."
If he wants to do that, she'll just change the game around. "What did you mean, Graeme, when you said zat Monsieur Felix was correct last time?" She offers a charming grin up to Graeme, gesturing for him to go first. If you don't say or think anything, you're going to get the Lambchop song stuck in your head, and I will not let you get it unstuck until you tell me! Don't think I won't do it.
"I think zat your granfazer is on to something, Monsieur Felix!" Remi offers a soft laugh, hefting up her ball and testing the weight, which Graeme chose well for her willowy frame. Then, suddenly, her laughing just stops, and she drops the bowling ball — thankfully, not on her own foot, turning to stare at Felix with a briefly horrified expression.
She's suddenly leveling a scowl at Graeme. How does he know?!
Graeme is quick in response, at least somewhat, and carefully picks up the bowling ball that Remi dropped, before it has a chance to do something like roll anywhere. Ball in hand, he brings his other hand to rest on Remi's shoulder, very gently.
You were a trifle obvious, picked up on one too many cues between us. There is good with people and then there is open book. "It's okay, Remi. It is." He sighs, softly, setting Remi's bowling ball on a seat, then pats the seat next to it. Sit a moment, please. His glance goes up to Felix, with a bit of a nod for him to step closer so that their conversation is not overheard by the whole bowling alley.
He doesn't have to be a telepath in return to guess what she just figured out. And the answering thought, clearly intended for her hearing is…..I'm not oblivious. I know what it's like to hide what you are. "Keep practicing, Grandfather," he admonishes Mikhail, before stepping closer.
Remi looks angry. And when Graeme rests his hand on her shoulder, those lean, powerful muscles of hers are tense, her posture quite suddenly impeccable, ramrod straight. A fiery blue glare is cast upon Graeme, before the woman settles down into her seat with a huff, her arms crossed over her chest. Then, scowling at both of them, she promptly speaks into both of their minds.
Yes. I'm more than just a touch telepath, as Graeme knows, and just confirmed for you. And I have to implore you both to not inform the authorities. You especially, Monsieur Ivanov. I know your ties to the government, but…I just want to live my life. I'm not hurting anybody. She's still scowling.
Graeme sighs, quietly, and sits down after Remi does, on the other side of the bowling ball, one leg crossed over the other. Remi… the thought is pleading, quiet, and then echoed aloud. "Remi. I know. I think we both do."
I won't. Fel's mental voice is firm. No verbal contribution to the discussion, other than a nod to Graeme's comment.
Remi frowns, shaking her head slowly. No further mental response comes from her, her blue eyes turning toward…the concession stand. "…Get me a pretzel with mustard and I might forgive you." She's still mad, but the responses are good enough to calm her down.
Graeme smiles a bit, rising slowly to his feet. There's a bit of a grateful smile to Felix. A few minutes later, Graeme returns. The pretzel in his hands is a large one, fairly lightly salted, and there's a cup of mustard balanced in his hand as well. "Well?" It's offered to Remi.
Then, Graeme looks at Felix. "Women are complicated, I think." It's said under his breath, not that it does anything against Remi overhearing. There's a bit of a grin, and then Graeme's blushing again.
"Too true," agrees Felix, wryly, finally speaking aloud. He eyes the pretzel longingly. Hungry. But then, he's always hungry. "No harm done," he adds to Remi, but it has the air of a promise.
Deliberately, Remi eyes the pretzel with a scrutinizing eye, before taking it with a nod and a smirk. Graeme is offered a gentle nudge to the leg with the toe of her new bowling shoes. "We are." She laughs softly, before glancing toward Felix. "You can 'ave some of mine, if you like. No double dipping, though." The next part is broadcast to both of them. Save your saliva swapping for my sexy room mate, oui? If Felix knows, he gets to be privy to her mental jabs, too.
Graeme pats Remi on the shoulder at the nudge, and then, then Remi's teasing him, and he's turned away from either of them, bright red before he can realise it. His hands clench slightly, then unclench, and there's a sheepish smile as he stands there, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Fel's abruptly red, too. I wouldn't mind that at all. he admits, with no particular shame. But things are kinna complicated.
Remi's happy to let Graeme stew for a moment, grinning over at him. She's also happy to make this conversation with Felix private. She's the only one who gets to keep secrets, dammit! So Graeme is excluded from the broadcast she sends to Felix's mind, even a she's offering him half of the pretzel with a smile. "'Ere you go, Monsieur Felix! I cannot eat all of zis, anyhow."
Complicated? Do explain, because I think it is simple. You two are absolutely bonkers over each other. You should hook up. That's that.
Graeme watches his roommate, watches Felix, and offers Felix just a hint of a smile. He bites his lip, a little uncertain, and instead, thinks of soccer plays, though he can't help but watch Felix as he does so. It's a good distraction nonetheless.
I have a lover. Well, at least he's blunt about it. And thank god he doesn't have to have this conversation actually aloud. It's a new thing, but….I mean, no formal commitment, but….I'm not sure I can add someone else to the mix right now. A glance at Graeme, and his smile is sphinxish. Though I am tempted.
Remi's brows raise as she watches Felix. Graeme likely already knows what's going on with her. She's most definitely having a private conversation with Felix. Graeme is left to wonder what the topic is. Well, that is a bit complicated. I can't speak for Graeme on that topic, but he likes you. You should speak to him about it, oui?
Graeme watches the exchange, or at least the now varying facial expressions, having walked over to get himself a hot dog. Which didn't last very long at all. The last little bit of it is disappearing as he comes back, to seeing Remi's brows raise, and his hands shove into his pockets again.
"Yes," Felix says aloud, to some mental comment. He turns to Graeme (after a glance over his shoulder to make sure Grandpa isn't attending too closely) and says in a rather apologetic tone, "I haven't called because stuff's been kinda complicated these days. I….I'm involved with someone. It's very new and I don't know what shape it'll take. But it didn't seem fair to you or him to be trying to juggle two at once, you know?"
Remi blinks a few time. Oh. Well, that was easy. A lot easier than she expected. Quietly, she settles back to enjoy her pretzel with mustard. Mmmm.
Graeme nods. He's now only a shade of pink, rather than the bright red that he had been, and before responding to Felix, he turns, faces Remi. Eyebrows go up. He clearly wants to know what his roommate said silently. "Yeah," he says, watching Felix. "I know how that can be." His voice is gentle, quiet, and he smiles.
Poor Remi. Let's hope that telepathy is verbal. Because, well, men and their mental images. His words are playing nice, his thoughts are not agreeing. There's a moment's fleeting speculation to the effect of wondering just what it would take to get both Graeme and Teo in bed with him at once.
The only thing that Graeme gets in response to his questioning look to Remi is a smile. Then, she's setting her pretzel down, and making her way over to her bowling ball, picking it up and making her way up to the line. She promptly uses both hands to slowly roll it down the center of the lane.
Graeme's mental images aren't particularly agreeing with his words aloud, either. Men. That constant motion, rocking on the heels of his feet that he tends to do rather than just stand still, it brings him half a step closer to Felix, and he looks at the other man, biting his lip just a bit. Close enough that it's awkward. Nervous, almost. Before he has a chance to say anything, Remi manages the strike, and Graeme once again applauds a little. It's not enough to stop his thoughts from speculation of the speedster, though.
Fel doesn't step away. Maybe it's sort of a point of pride to hold his ground. But he just smiles at Graeme - it's that almost smug expression.
Remi giggles, bouncing on her toes for a moment, before skipping back over to her seat, a smug smile on her face. "My first time and I'm already a pro. So far, your Grandpapa and I are ze best bowlers 'ere." Then, she's attacking her pretzel.
Graeme doesn't step away, either, and the smile is returned after a moment. There's a part of him, that as awkward as it is, likes the closeness. The same part of him that's thinking a hell of a lot about what it would be like and what he'd have to do to get closer. There's a smile spared for Remi, but it's different.
Smug to begin with. It turns into something more gentle, wondering. Fel blinks at him, and there's a flicker of something sad. Remi will get a distinct image of a big man, built like a fighting bull, hair cut brutally short, in a detective's rumpled suit - followed by a stab of loss.
Quietly, Remi grins, finishing off her pretzel. Then, picking up her purse, she's taking Felix's Grandfather by the arm, intent on taking him to the bar for a victory drink. Even though her main intent is to give the boys some quiet time.
It's nearly instinctive, not quite, buffered by nervousness, but still. At the flicker of sadness, Graeme reaches over, and rests his hand on Felix's shoulder, with a gentle squeeze.
Felix doesn't object. He smiles again, tentatively. Suddenly, English is really hard.
Graeme smiles, and flushes a little redder. Whatever words he'd had, they're lost, a little too far away. There's a pause of hesitation, before Graeme's put his other hand on Fel's other shoulder, and kisses the other man, gently, then drawing away after a moment.
The answering kiss is sweet, rather than passionate. Fel's smile has slipped into something lopsided and shy. "Thank you," he says, suddenly.
Graeme flushes a slightly deeper shade of red, and smiles; the smile is tentative, giddy, almost silly. There's a second squeeze of Felix's shoulder, before he lets his hands drop, a a little, though one comes to rest on the other man's waist, and Graeme looks down a moment, looking up again.
The smile is tremulous, uncertain. But he puts a hand on Graeme's lips for just a moment, and steps back. Not further, not more, not here, anyway.
Graeme smiles, and the smile remains as he too steps back. It's pleased, content, and the underlying thought, probably still audible to his roommate, of whether or not that just really happened.
He rocks on his heels, a little, the bowling shoes not particularly conducive to that, and picks up his own bowling ball from where it rests. With a grin to Felix, Graeme takes three steps forward, releasing the ball down the lane.
Only two pins get knocked down, but Graeme's smile doesn't fade at all. He turns to Felix, and shrugs. "Maybe they're on to something." Whether he's talking about what Remi'd said of the two of them, or how she bowled, is vague. And perhaps purposefully so.
"Maybe so," Fel concedes, tone light. And then he goes looking for the ball he had previously, rejoining his grandfather.
Graeme smiles to himself. Even if it was just a kiss, just a touch, it's a smile that will remain on Graeme's face for the rest of the evening. "Maybe so."
