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It is early afternoon, and the day is warm. One of the parks nearby is a bit overgrown as funds are in short supply here. This means that someone has attached a tyre to a tree for a swing, and there rest of the playground equipment has been repaired only rather haphazardly. Such is life in Mutant Town. This means that it is a perfect day for a few things - a picnic with wine and food, and some games. Lambert has a bag out there, but right now he is standing at the edge of the park, moving from one foot to another. His shoes and socks are off, he is only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. And, because of the era? A headband to keep his fleecy curls up and out of his eyes. Yes. That is one hell of a look. He has a rather stout little goat tail protruding from behind, and with the headband pushing back his fleece, his long goaty ears are visible. The feet are normal, though his nails are broad and solid. He claps his hands together, cheer realised in the physical.
*
Lindon comes with Lamont, hanging back a little, because this is awkward, and out in public, Lindon is retiring to the point of hoping not to be seen. He's dressed about as casually as he gets in khakis and a short-sleeved button shirt sans tie. At least his presence in Mutant Town has him fascinated. It's a pleasant distraction to see things in person one has only seen before in his mind.
*
Same for Lamont. White camp shirt over white t-shirt, dark jeans. Very casual, indeed. But there's Lambert, and he's smiling, despite himself The tail. The tail always gets him, every time. He raises a hand and waves to Lambert, cheerfully. This must've been planned, because he's brought soda and water. Being on the edge of Mutant Town doesn't seem to dismay him.
*
Lambert claps his hands together, to see the both of them "Lindon! Lamont! Come over here! It's a good day, yes? I have brought things for a picnic, and also some games to play." What. Is someone making Lindon _do things outside_. Yes. Someone is. The satyr glances down at his rear, then up at Lamont, and he says to him "I figure it is not so bad to look like this here. Now. Everyone can have some soda, and then we will have some fun, eh? I have one of these new..Wham-O Frisbees!"
*
Lindon says to Lambert, "Yes, it is. The temperature is, uh. Within a predictable range for this time of year." He smiles a little, and he has to remember to blink. "I'm not very good at games," he mentions. He glances between Lamont and Lambert, then swallows, and he says, "I'd love a soda, thank you."
*
He's got bottled Cokes for all of them, a six pack. Monty hands off a bottle, before grinning at Lambert. "They're like a toy discus, right?" he ventures. Of course the satyr would know - Olympics, right?
*
Lambert says "That's okay!" He grins at Lindon, and then he reaches out, to offer his hand "Come on in, Lindon! This is going to be great. And yes, like a toy discus! I won't throw it that hard, this one's just a game for fun. We toss it to each other. If you're not into physical things," And, oh God, he looks Lindon right up and down, thoughtfully, as if the man were naked "Then you toss it and try to make sure we can't catch it - that's easier, and just as much fun for us." Then he reaches out for a bottle "All of these games - ring toss, frisbee. All were warfare once."
*
Lindon takes Lambert's hand and applies just the right amount of pressure, gives two precise shakes, then releases. There are a few schools of thought on what constitutes a good handshake and he knows more of them than he ever wanted to. His cheeks color when Lambert looks him up and down. "Yes," he says. "Yes they were."
*
To his credit (one hopes), Lamont is not grinning at them both. The pervert. But he doesn't blush, either. "Here, may I try?" he asks Lambert, holding out a hand for it. When was the last time he did something this idle, just for the hell of it?
*
"Oh, that's right, you're a real smart guy!" says Lambert to Lindon "Hey, hey, Lamont says you know things - like. Recipes?" He clasps his hands together, and he grins, and then he sips his coke, before he offers the bright yellow frisbee across "Sure! Give it a whirl. It's pretty funny. I've seen these things made out of heavy metal and wood."
*
Lindon's brows lift. "Yes, I supposes I do," he says to Lambert. Like it's only just now occurring to him that a chef might be interested in rare recipes. Oh, right. Of course. He gets himself a soda, then stands, his hands passing the bottle between them as they bicker over who does what whilst not engaged. He watches Lamont and the frisbee rather keenly. Guess who's thinking of physics?
*
He heads off with long strides, frisbee in hand. And then, carefully, sends it sailing back towards Lambert. Not hard at all - trying to gauge how it flies.
*
Lambert says "Sometime come by - I'll swap you food for recipes, if they're something I don't know." He beams at Lindon "Come on, let's have a go - it's sunny, there's kids playing off in the distance, birds singing, all that good stuff." And then he turns back to Lamont and he bounces on over. Lambert's legs are not goat-like, but they have a very springy edge to them, as if they can compress further than they should. He leaps and catches the frisbee with one hand, and then he spins it much more gently, slowly, towards Lindon.
*
Lindon freezes, though as the frisbee approaches, he gauges it with thoughts traveling faster than consciousness, and he doesn't run or lunge for the frisbee, he steps to one side, cats his head like a cat lining up a mouse, then he holds up a hand and lets the frisbee slot into it. Then he looks to Lamont, and again there's that gauging and sizing up. He tilts his face to the wind to feel the strength of the breeze. He tests the weight of the frisbee and its center of gravity. Then he throws to Lamont, and it sails so high the older man will have to jump for it, but otherwise it comes right to him. "Oops," he says.
*
HE's surprisingly lithe, considering his advanced age. Not many septuaginarians can leap like that - but he does snag it out of the air. But he's grinning….and then he passes it on to Lambert, a little harder. All the better to make the saytrling run. That tail, after all…. Then he's stripping out of his camp shirt. Too warm, really.
*
Lambert watches Lindon with some fascination. How does he actually do that? Because that is _very_ interesting. Lambert….Lambert is not precise. Instead he laughs, and he kicks up onto his toes and dashes for the frisbee, snagging it from above him with an energetic leap. Yes. This is the sort of thing he had in mind. Lindon might not quite feel the same…sort of thing that he does, but at least he can see Lamont and the satyr dashing back and forth. Now Lambert flicks it _hard_ at Lamont - just to see what he will do "You're a natural!"
*
"Thank you," Lindon says uncertainly. He keeps his soda in one hand, and he stands, not all that willing to run for the disk, but if it's within his range of step and grab, his record is damn good. His throws are rather precise, too. Once in awhile he throws so they have to give chase, others are a direct loft. "This is kind of fun," he admits.
*
He runs for it, just misses. But Lamont's still grinning, no wise dismayed. The point is the exercise. He returns it to Lambert, harder. Run, gote, run. Then he's eyeing Lindon speculatively. Time to find another physical actiivity that Lindon likes, somewhere he feels comfortable. Swimming, perhaps. "We should go to the beach, soon, when it's really hot," he suggests.
*
"Sounds good," says Lambert "Swimming shorts hide my tail, so I'm alright with that - and the sunglasses hide my eyes." He really _enjoys_ his running, thick-set though he might be. Under the comfortable padding from baklava is a joy in exercise, and it shows as he kicks, leaps. He really can jump as intensely as the most accomplished of human athletes. And after a time, back he comes, grinning. Lambert leaps, and falls, and then soon, he is panting contentedly, lying on his belly "Time for food, I think! Lindon - is there anything you do not like, eh? Allergies?"
*
"I'd like that," Lindon says. "I love to swim, but I never saw the beach before coming to New York." Not many oceanfronts in Kansas. He finds a place to sit in the grass, and he takes another drink before he says, "I have a minor dust allergy, but foods are all right." So think, though. Though since the first time Lambert saw Lindon, he has put on a little weight, and his color has returned.
*
"There are more beautiful beaches in the world," Lamont concedes, easily. "But still….the ocean's the ocean." Then he's grinning at the prospect of Lambert's cooking, scooping up his soda to finish the bottle in a few long swallows.
*
Lambert takes out a cloth and lays it on the ground near Lindon. Then he takes out several rolls with lamb and pine nuts baked into them. There is also a small bottle of wine. Always wine, with Lambert. The cloth is blue and white check and the rolls are fresh. Soda first, but soon he is pouring out a little wine, and he offers Lindon a plate full of goodies "Dig in there. You're so skinny," he says with a friendly look, before he nudges Lamont cheerily "It is! Heh. I like swimming. The other day I met a competition rowing girl. She had muscles…"
*
Lindon, for all his awkward, perks up when the food is brought out. "I always like your food," he tells him, and he does tuck in, sampling this and that. "I metabolize quickly," he adds. Thinking burns calories and, well. "But I'll let you feed me." Sure, think he's too thin, unlike Strange he won't say no to a fine meal. After he's tasted a few delights, he casts about for conversation. "So, uh."
*
That grin….no, it's a smirk. "I can imagine," Lamont says, with that impish look in his eyes. He settles down to eat with eminent contentment - he's not as thin as Lindon, but he is rather wiry, in that muscled way. Very little spare flesh. Then he's lifting his wine cup in cheerful salute to Lambert. "To your very good health," he says.
*
That grin….no, it's a smirk. "I can imagine," Lamont says, with that impish look in his eyes. He settles down to eat with eminent contentment - he's not as thin as Lindon, but he is rather wiry, in that muscled way. Very little spare flesh. Then he's lifting his wine cup in cheerful salute to Lambert. "To your very good health," he says.
*
"Oh, okay!" Lambert laughs "So do I! But I eat a hell of a lot." He pats his belly, happily, and then he starts to put out a few little biscuits as well "So! So it's sunny. So I get to meet you - you are Lamont's very good friend! This makes me want to say hello." He quirks his lips, looking at Lindon more closely. A sunny smile with sharp teeth behind it "Oh, she was amazing," he says wistfully "She could pin me down like I was nothing. Haha! The best." So fond. Now he lifts his cup up himself "Oh, and yours! To everyone here, and to having fun."
*
Lindon raises his wine glass and says, "To your health." He takes a drink, measured carefully so ass not to choke on it. His cheeks color, and he glances down at his glass. "Ha ha, ah, okay. Yes, I, um. Think we can be friends, if you want. That could be, um, could be nice." He swallows, and he looks at Lamont. Help.
*
And Lamont's little smile reveals nothing. No compunction at all about both of his lovers being friends. He's much less of an active voyeur than a certain ancient knight, but….well. The idea's pleasing, at least. "The best, indeed," he affirms. And then he's nodding pleasedly at them both.
*
"Excellent!" says Lambert, and he knocks back all of his wine. All of it, at once. As Lindon says that, Lambert slaps him on the lower back "That's the spirit," he says to him "And you know recipes! Oh, yes. Good. My new friend, Lindon." The wine is being refilled. Poor Lindon. No, no help is going to be going his way. Lambert says to him "You are a very nice young man. Good looking. I like you." And he pauses, then he says to Lamont "Wait, should I say things like that around him? I'm not sure who is safe."
*
Lindon, with no help available to him, is keeled forward by the back smack, though not too dramatically, and he says, "You think I'm…? Oh, um, yeah. I don't. Mind." He takes another drink of wine. Yes, wine will make him feel better about all this. That's right, the satyr doesn't know. Does he? Nng.
*
"Ah," says Lamont, and it's that particularly English monosyllable that presages some unwelcome clarification. "Lambert," he says, after a moment, "Lindon and I are lovers. And he does know that I have….something of an affair with you."
*
Ow wow, awkward. Can you mind read? Because that is what Lambert's face says "…er, oops," he says, and then he rubs the back of his neck "Oh, man, I didn't know you, errrr. I'm. So sorry," he says to Lindon, sincerely "I really don't want to cause any like, accidental." Poor Gote. He does actually look hangdog.
*
Lindon waves a hand and says, "No, no. It's. I already knew." Nervous laughter trembles in his voice. "I'm aware of his love of beautiful young men." He nods. A little too much. Nodding, yes. "It's fine," he says. "I'd rather know about the affair up front than be surprised down the road."
*
Lamont has grace enough to look…a little guilty. "Lambert and I happened….before you and I," he explains to Lindon, softly. "I should've said right off the bat. I'm sorry, both of you. I am. I should've….should've done things differently."
*
Lambert gets up, and then - how fast is Lamont? Because he might well be very fast! So is Lambert, however, a literal olympian. If Lamont is _not_ fast, then Lambert pops him one right across the face. THOCK.
*
Lindon's eyes widen, and his hand flies to his mouth. "Oh! Lambert! What are you doing?" Lindon's good at predicting outcomes. He's very smart! But he didn't see that one coming. He hurries over, though he's not really sure what to do. "Lamont!"
*
He is fast….but this one, whether out of surprise or deliberate masochism, he doesn't dodge. Takes it right in the face, rolling with it as best he can. But he's going to have a bruise on the corner of his mouth….and there's a little trickle of blood there. His expression's still relatively cool, as he looks back, reaching up a hand to touch the cut. "It's all right," he allows. "I deserve far worse, truth be told."
*
Lambert puts his hands on his hips, and he eyes Lamont "Even, then," he says, and he then turns to Lindon "Look, I won't say I haven't made people cheat before - but I only ever did it if I thought I _should_ wreck it all, you know? I didn't know about you - and you look like you feel awful bad about it. So I'm real sorry for sticking my dick in your boyfriend, like." He thinks "A lot." Then he says to Lamont "Dude, look at this guy - he can't do stuff like this - he's all sad now. How do I fix this? Come on, you got more brains than me. I only think with my cock."
*
Lindon shakes his head quickly. "No, I don't." He crouches beside Lamont and inspects his face, those eyes calculating and thinking despite his distress. "I knew you two were involved before we were. I didn't know what we were at the time. I'm still not sure, but I don't feel betrayed or… or any of that." Still, his cheeks color when Lambert mentions just how many dickings there were. Lindon takes a deep breath, and he says, "I just don't know the proper social form for anything like this." To be fair, he barely groks the proper social form of ordering a milkshake. This? This is just way out there in left field past the fence.
*
"I don't think there really is a proper social form for anything like this at all," Lamont acknowledges. He's gone a bit pink, itself. It's only a bruise and a little cut. "He has more brains than I. And….I'm guilty of thinking that way, myself."
*
Lambert rubs the back of his head. Ten tonnes of awk going here. Also, he is _strong_. He is after all, not human, so he has definitely left a bruise "…uh. Well. Okay." Then he frowns, and he picks up his wine again, before he says "I know the form. I mean, my…er. Group. Do this sort of thing a lot. But I know it upsets most people. And I…look. You should have told me, dude," he says to Lamont "But you didn't. I don't hate you. Okay? I just, you know. Why don't we just all drink some wine and eat some food." Finally, he is a little self conscious "I'm not a person in the same way you are," he says to Lindon, suddenly "I mean. I first had sex with a cousin behind the bleachers at a softball game. But like, just because our cultures are different, doesn't mean I think I'm better than you, okay? You're cool and you know stuff." He adds "And I like you still, but you're on thin ice, buddy," to Lamont "I may cut back baklava. I won't yet. But I MIGHT."
*
Holy shit, cutting back baklava? Lindon looks to Lamont. Danger zone, darling. "It's really okay," Lindon says. He picks up a bit of baklava himself to nibble on since his supply isn't being threatened. "I've thought about this a lot," he admits. "It's as you say, you're different from me. Copulating with you provides something I can't, and Lamont obviously enjoys your trysts. When he's out, I don't wait by the phone. I've got my books and our library." He glances between the two of them. "I have experienced far less jealousy than one normally would, but most of what fuels jealously is irrational."
*
"That doesn't mean it isn't painful, and I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused," Lamont says, softly. But he's looking between them. There's a kind of relief there. At least it's out in the open.
*
"Oh boy, I don't think _I_ have the ability to understand how chill you are, duder," says the jock to Lindon, and then he says "No, at least with…my lot. It isn't about something someone cannot. It's about having fun and joy with someone else. Look. Let me kind of explain." He gestures to Lamont to come and sit, and then he pours Lamont wine as well "People are different. Beautiful. Fun. Mean. Awful. When I find someone I like - male or female - I like sharing things with them. My food. My house. My pleasure. My wine. And if I'm lucky, they want to share with me too. It doesn't have to involve sex, but I guess often for me it does - I'm a horny satyr." He quirks his lips "But I don't think it means you're _less than_. Okay? Um. Well." He folds his arms, considering "I gotta think! I gotta think about what's fair for everyone here." He frowns. Chews his lip. Blue screen of deaths.
*
Lindon nods as he listens, and he says, "Yes, I understand. I don't feel lesser than you. There are things I provide that only I can. It makes our experience together singular and unique." He smiles fleetingly at Lamont. "Look, why don't we have our picnic, and nobody worry too much about anything? We just need to, um, learn how to navigate. Let's just let that sit awhile." Sudden decisions, not his forte nor favorite thing. Besides, there's baklava and wine.
*
Lambert glances at Lindon, and then he admits "That'd be good. I'm honestly. Really _bad_ at the whole thinking thing." He gives a bit of a goofy smile to Lindon "So….can you go over _how_ you can not be into sport but catch a frisbee like -"