Participants:
| Scene Title | Looking for Trouble |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lunch provides a pleasant break for both Graeme and Savannah. It's good to spend time with friends. |
| Date | April 28, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers: Remi & Graeme's apartment
Faced with having to figure out what to do for lunch while puttering about the Dorchester Towers apartment, Graeme came to a rather simple conclusion. Rather than anything else, or eating by himself, which would result in a rushed and unpleasant meal, there was a quick call to Savannah to see if she wanted to come over, a few minutes ago. And so, already part of the way dressed for work, black pants and a plain black undershirt that reveals the still healing scarring on one shoulder, Graeme opens the door, not very long at all after the knocking. There's a genuine smile that creeps onto his face, too. "Hey," he greets, quiet, a long moment passing before he steps out of the doorway. "What am I thinking, come in. I left Odin at Aric's for the day, so you don't have to worry about getting dog fur everywhere or anything."
"We're having lasagna," Savannah states, bringing in a covered container as she offers a warm smile. "Kam and I made some the night before last so there are leftovers and it's pretty fantastic. So I thought I'd bring it up." She does nod, looking around a bit. "Well, at least there isn't any dog hair! Lasagna is much better without it."
There are very few signs that the apartment is currently lived in. It's kept neat by the cleaning service, and although the tablet computer is on the table showing that Graeme's at least been here, it doesn't seem that he spends that much time here otherwise. "That sounds wonderful," Graeme says, pleased surprise on his face, though it's warring for prominence with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he's having a bad day, overall. She hadn't mentioned that she was going to bring lunch, a few minutes ago, and he moves over towards the kitchen, getting down bowls. "Kitchen," he says, stated as an afterthought as to where to bring the lasagna.
"Hope you don't mind, I should've called and let you know, I didn't know if you'd have something here," Savannah says, moving towards the kitchen as well. "You seem a bit tense. Everything alright?"
Graeme grins, easily. "Like I said, lasagna sounds wonderful. I'm just surprised. But it's good, really." His head tilts to one side, and he leans on the kitchen counter, considering the question. "Just tired, I guess. More than usual." He chuckles, laughter quiet. "I've only been up for three days with no real sleep so far, this time. Last time, it was really nearly six, not three, I just tend to cut the number in half, usually. So three's not bad." There's a frown. "Well, about half an hour each night after Aric fell asleep, but."
"Don't let your boyfriend keep you up all night," Savannah chides, moving to find a knife so she can cut the lasagna into portions. "Believe me, I know the temptation is there myself… but you should be careful. Really, it's bad to be without sleep. I mean, I don't know about you for sure, since your ability probably changes things a bit, but… I don't know. Makes me worry. And I've got enough worries, alright?"
The grin turns into a blush and a giggle as Graeme gets out a spoon with which to serve the lasagna into bowls. "No, really, see, Aric does sleep, and I tend to fall asleep soon thereafter, but I don't end up staying asleep long." There's a faint shrug, and it's back to the easy grin, agreement without argument or anything.
"Alright, alright. I haven't been trying to pull all-nighters or anything, anyway. If I was trying to go without sleep, well, by the time it gets there then it's obvious, and all. But I'll try and get a bit more sleep … Or go back to Dr. Brennan and see about what you'd suggested a while ago." There's a decisive nod, and then Graeme pulls out forks and knives, before sticking both bowls into the microwave for a minute.
Savannah giggles. "Well, of course you're gonna sleep when he does… I'm just saying I doubt him being up helped you much. In fact, I bet you both sleep less." She leans against the counter a bit. "But it's good to hear you're just tired. That's one of the better complaints I've heard in a while."
A glance at the microwave, and then Graeme pushes the button to add another minute and a half to the reheating of the food. "Prob'ly," Graeme admits, "you'd win money on that bet. But yeah. That's pretty much the biggest complaint, at the moment. I mean, there're still worries, same as last time, moreso a little, but nothing that's the impending end of the world, or actually going to deny me of life and liberty and happiness. Some of my other friends, not quite so lucky on the second and possibly third counts, and so, well, I worry. Which probably doesn't help the not sleeping much either."
There's a laugh, and Graeme takes the two bowls of lasagna from the microwave, walking over towards the dining room table. The heat of the bowls doesn't bother him, despite the steam rising from each of them. "Get the silverware from on the counter?" he asks. "I would, but well, only two hands."
Gathering up the silverware, Savannah heads over towards the table with him. "I dunno that anyone's really got life, liberty, and happiness anymore, though. I'm starting to be a bit doubtful. Seems how ever loud I scream about inequality, more of it happens. I guess we just have to make the best of things."
"Yeah." There's another smile as Graeme pulls out a chair for Savannah, before pulling out another one and sitting down, leaning back slightly. The food put down, he reaches to rub absently at his shoulder, the still red and perhaps sore scar there. "I meant to ask, how did the release party go? I'm sorry I couldn't be there, I'd work that night and couldn't get away."
"It went okay, it wasn't huge, but there were some good people. One of my biggest fans, I'd say, was there. It went over well with people, so… it was enjoyable. It just wasn't… you know. It wasn't a big thing the way I had anticipated," Savannah admits. "Not gonna let that bring me down at all… just means I have to make things bigger for the next one."
"Next time, I'll be there," Graeme says, picking up a fork. "I'm still sorry that I missed it, it sounds like it was a nice evening. I'm working at a nightclub, now, though. Good place, overall." There's a small chuckle of laughter, before Graeme takes a bite of the lasagna. "Mmm." A pause, and then he's no longer talking around a mouthful of food. "Tell Kam that this is good, yes? It is strange to say I'm working at a nightclub, I don't work past eight in the evening most days. Some night, not that that's anyone's fault or anything."
"Oooh, nightclub. Are you sure that's not a codeword for you being a stripper behind the scenes?" Savannah teases, though she takes a bite of her lasagna, finishing it before continuing. "I'll be sure to let him know you enjoyed it. I really do miss being out late, though."
There's another chuckle of laughter, louder this time. "Pretty damn sure. Unless behind the scenes is up above Aric's bookstore, but for all that he's tried to teach me anything about that, I'm about as graceful as an angry bull most of the time." Okay, well, perhaps he's overstating it, as evidenced by the large smile and the shrug filling the space where he's eating, and more time is devoted to eating than it is to speaking. And Graeme's turning a fairly bright shade of red, to boot. "I miss it too. I miss being able to be out and about when I'm up all night. I've been sorely tempted to go out an' break curfew anyway, city's all deserted at night and great for skateboarding… but I don't think Aric'd be pleased with me at all if I did that."
"I went to Vegas, once, and they have these dancers… The Thunder From Down Under. They're supposed to be Australian, but you can never tell, but they're like… chiseled. Usually bachelorette parties are there, but… man. Those guys look like greek statues." Savannah glances back over. "Sure you aren't practicing?" She teases, then goes back to her eating. "Kam would worry too much if I was out at night. Plus when people know your name… they tend to make more of a big deal if you get busted doing something bad."
"I'm pretty sure I'd get an earful about risks— unnecessary risks— if I even so much mentioned the idea of breaking curfew to go skateboarding where he could hear me," Graeme says, softly. The qualification is a small acknowledgment that Graeme does take risks, but the ones he takes are deemed necessary. Needful. "Like I said, I'm as graceful as an angry bull. Or maybe an angry gazelle. One of my boyfriends in early college called me that, once. And I don't think any amount of practise is going to change that. Even if it's all just a pattern, and all." He can do patterns, when they're fighting, or sports, but not that. "And damn, yeah. I've never been farther west than New Mexico. But I could definitely go for seeing that."
"Sometimes there is beauty and grace in power. You just have to know what to look for. I consider myself a connoisseur of beauty, of stories and poems and art… people are the most important aspect of all of that. So I'm a connoisseur of people." Savannah says, taking another careful bite. She doesn't want to get sauce on her clothes. "It's all about how you feel about it, how you treat what you're doing."
Graeme blushes again, not long after the red had faded from his cheeks to begin with. "I suppose that's a lot of it. That I get embarrassed when I try." There's a grin, and another bite taken, bringing the bowl to nearly half empty, despite that the teacher-turned-bouncer hasn't been eating particularly quickly, and he served himself a rather larger portion than the normal-sized for Savannah. A moment later, there's a lopsided shrug, one-shouldered and his still healing shoulder remains still.
Going back to her lasagna, Savannah can't help but laugh once more. "I bet Aric must have been amused when you tried, then. An angry bull…" She takes another bite of her lasagna, falling into silence once more as she focuses on eating.
"Amused begins to cover it," Graeme admits, turning down to look at his food as if that will diminish how much he's blushing. And though, since the minor argument, that particular experiment hasn't been repeated, seeing how embarrassed Graeme can get in things. "The sort of grace it takes on a soccer field," he continues, "is not the sort that's good in other circumstances." There's a faint laughter, almost a giggle, and a smile on Graeme's face. Realisation, like he'd forgotten that social interaction was possible, existed, and that social interaction was even good. "But that could be said of lots of things."
"Ah, now there's that smile," Savannah says, grinning. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten how to. You always seem so serious." She nibbles at the lasagna, watching him with mischievous eyes. "Plus you're fun to embarrass. It's hard to not smile when you blush, you know. I'm sure it's scientific fact. But don't quote me on that."
The smile broadens. Calendar-winning smile, really. It's sometimes a surprise that Graeme's been a soccer player and a teacher and a bouncer, and not a male model or the like, with that smile, but moreso, he's mainly unaware of just the extent that it goes to. "I blush as easily as I breathe, really. 'Least, that's what most people seem to find out." But then his expression saddens, slightly, the smile becoming wistful and distant for the man he called friend that he hasn't seen since everything happened. "But you're right on that count. And I'm sure there's a paper on it somewhere. There're papers on everything, if you know where to look for them."
"I'm sure there is! You look much better when you smile, though. I don't like to see my friends sad. Or tired. You've really got to figure out how to make yourself sleep. Need to solve that problem," Savannah says, finishing off the last of her lasagna. "I'm sure there's a trick to it."
Graeme nods. "I know," he says, quietly. "Sad, to some degree? It's inevitable. Several of my friends are on the run at the moment, for no reason other than wanting to see this world being a better place and having had an opportunity to act on it. That ended up being a trap. It's sad, and I hate it, and I hate how little I can do for them, even if I'm far more helpful and such where I am than anything else. I still hate it." Graeme takes the last bite of lasagna from the bowl in front of him. "But yeah, I do need to figure something out. I'll look into it, and not life getting in the way of things, this time."
There's a nod. "That I understand. Just… be careful, Graeme. Don't get yourself into trouble," Savannah suggests, tapping her chin. "And don't lean too far one way or the other. That's how people fall over. And that's how wars start. But take care of your friends, if you can."
There's a soft chuckle of laughter from the man, a smile offered to the woman across the table from Graeme. It's already a war, and he knows it, but it's not something that he's going to point out. "I'm careful," he says, quiet. "I am. No unnecessary risks." It's not the best of reassurance, but it's what he can provide easily, without weighing down his conscience with more things he's said that he can't follow through on. "And no trouble. I'm certainly not out there looking for any."
"Looking for trouble will always find you some, trouble wants to be found these days," Savannah nods. "I like to flirt with trouble, but it's always trouble. So… yes. No unnecessary risks. And you tell your friends that, too. I'm tired of hearing about bad things happening to good people. But remember the necessary risks, too. Sometimes… sometimes you can't just sit still. The necessary ones are always the hardest."