1964-07-16 - Evening In Queens
Summary: Lamont, Lindon, and Maximus get together for a surprisingly pleasant chat.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
maximus lindon lamont 

Maximus has been hiding out in Lindon's spare apartment for…weeks now. Ever since the incident with Vesper and Nexus and Karnak, that is. Laying loooow. He does get out and about now, but he's been dressing like a normal person, instead of wearing his usual costume.

And there's not only Lindon, but his lover. Lamont's actually got groceries - to cook dinner or stock up the tiny fridge. He's chatting idly with the Archive about some new movie, expression pleasant. He's more casually dressed than usual, in a camp shirt and khaki pants.

Lindon has come to make sure Maximus is well. Cooked for him, tidied up the apartment, kept him company. It has been intruding upon his time with Lamont, but these things happen. Now he's enlisted Lamont's help, and as they come into the aprtment, he says, "I don't know why we don't go out to the movies more often. It was such a fun night." He's in his usual nerdy and ill-fitting yet largely appropriate attire.

Maximus is totally thrown off when he hears another voice. He hops ot of his chair and then rushes over to another one, then grabs a book and opens it to a random page, sitting up straight and elegant and wishing so much he had some eyeliner on. But…such is his lot in life these days! When the guys enter, he looks up and his eyes fall on Lindon, then Lamont, "Good evening, Lindon…and…"

"Then we shall," Lamont replies, affably. "Always good for a rainy or too-hot Saturday." From a guy who remembers the silents and the beginning of air conditioning. "Lamont," he says, pleasantly. If he remembers their first and less than amiable meeting at Lux, he's letting bygones be bygones, it seems. "And you are Maximus, I understand? Sorry to disturb." Apparently he's known of this arrangement, and t aken no exception. Hardly fair, when he's encouraging Lin to spread his wings.

"Yes! This is Lamont," Lindon says and he offers Maximus a warm smile. See? All is well, says that smile. Besides, these are two of his favorite people and they're not at each others' throats yet. "I was thinking I might make dinner for all of us tonight," Lindon adds. "How do you feel about chicken cacciatore?"

Maximus lifts his chin and then rises to his feet, "I think that sounds delicious. Lamont hmm, the…man." His eyes look the fellow up and down. "Do you still go to that terrible club?" He cocks his head. "Do you let Lindon cook for you, often? He's quite good at it." He brushes a hand down his chest, wearing a button-down shirt and some slacks. "There is no disruption. I am only trying to contain my desire to build things."

Rather than taking offense, Lamont looks a little wry. "On occasion," he allows, gently. "And as for Lin cooking, sometimes. Often I cook for him….sometimes we just eat whatever the housekeeper cooks," he notes. "But you're right, Lin's a very good cook."

Lindon smiles, ducking his head with pleasure. "I have a lot of recipes in my head," he says, and he heads into the kitchen to start preparing the meal. With the open floor plan, he can still interact with the other two while he putters about. "We went to the movies today," he says. "I haven't been to that club very often, myself. I couldn't tell you what's awful about it."

Maximus flaps his hand and rolls his eyes. "Who can say. Everything. I guess." He comes up closer to lean on the counter to watch Lindon prep things and to get a closer sense of Lamont, as well. "The movies, hmm? I have yet to try that. I suspect it is something that would be very sad to go see on your own. As someone who had no friends to go with. Perhaps next time, I will stalk the two oof you and sit behind…" He grins faintly, "sip your drink when you aren't looking."

"You could just come with us," Lamont's voice is still mild. His body language is easy, pleased. "Do you want a drink?" he asks. "Me, I think I'm sticking with soda tonight, but…." Willing to try and make friends with His Prickly Majesty.

"What Lamont said," Lindon says. He cuts up red bell pepper in neat, even slices. "You have friends," he says. "I'm your friend." He glances to Maximuss, then Lamont. And Lamont is trying to make nice. "How was your day today?" he asks. "I hope you don't mind I took your laundry. I'll have it washed and delivered tomorrow morning."

"Yes, I want a drink. I want spiked tea." Maximus smiles again. "My laundry? My day was fine. I got that information, by the way. That's why I was asleep for a day. I was off in the jungle with a beautiful woman and two young men, one of whom was positively, disgustingly attractive. And I was a good boy the whole time." He winks.

Well, that answers a question. "The jungle?" Lamont asks, quietly. "And I'll make us spiked tea - that does sound like a good idea." He heads into the kitchen to start the rea brewing. "But you found what ou were looking for?"

"I can think of worse things than enjoying the company of attractive men and women. Kudos for good behavior." Lindon's cheeks color as he remembers the woman from the other night. "I never know what to do around people who are disgustingly attractive. They intimidate me til I get to know them."

"Well, these people I hired to help me get to the place. They were a fine distraction, indeed. And no one died. One of them I liked in particular. Very concerned about safety. I will probably use him again on the next trip. I am glad that you didnt come after all. You would have hated the cursed pirates." Maximus dangles that nugget in front of the others and grins wolfishly.

He knows when he's being baited to ask for a story….but rather than annoying Lamont, it only makes him grin, a little. It may be a fish story, but he's willing to go along. "Pirates?" he prompts, obligingly, gray eyes bright.

"Pirates?" Lindon echoes Lamont. "I don't know, they might have been interesting, unless they were real pirates doing real piratey things. I feel like such a lame duck for not going on adventures, but I'm such a homebody." He starts prepping the chicken, his movements sure and easy. He knows exactly what he's doing.

Maximus straightens, "I should take you /both/ on the next one. Like a /date/, for you, to lounge on a deserted island." He runs his hand across the counter musingly, "The island was inhabited by Mystics, Inhumans and later conquered by Pirates, that ended up cursed. There was one only a few inches tall. He was adorable. Undead, of course." He smiles and shakes his head, then threads his hand through his hair. "I should like to go back there." A bit maudlin he continues, "Clean up the place…rule a city of one."

Lamont does not scoff. He regards Max with bright gray eyes, amused and pleased. "I'm very fond of adventures," he offers, innocent as Winnie the Pooh. "But what would be the point of ruling a kingdom with only one miniscule inhabitant?"

"I'll join after all the undead have been cleared out," Lindon offers. Then, with sympathy, he tell Maximus, "If you build it, they will come. Just make it a nice place to live and don't threaten to destroy your citizens, and they'll love it." Into the oven goes the chicken, and he washes his hands, then sets about peel cutting up broccoli to steam.

"I did not think of that. I /could/ build an alternate Attilan…but…hmmm. It would be almost like a pioneering adventure. Attilan has so much fantastic technology, and I built most of it." Maximus complains. He's silent a moment, then looks at Lamont, "I want to know more about you. Where do you come from? What are you about?"

The direct questions don't seem to discompose him a bit. Lamont looks back at Max for a moment, glancing over from brewing the tea. "Originally from England, but I've spent most of my adult life as an American," he says, slowly. "At the moment, not very much. I inherited enough money I needn't work, as well as a large house uptown. I have hobbies I pursue, the most important of which is flight."

"We kind of bonded over planes," Lindon says. "I had the practical knowledge but had never spoken to someone who had any raw experience." He takes a loaf of bread fresh from a bakery from a grocery bag and puts it in the warming shelf beneath the oven. It's not just for storing pans! "I have enough money to get by," he mentions, "but I like to work."

"I like to work too, but there are not a lot of openings for a man of my talents." Maximus jokes, "What did your parents do…to leave you such a sum? Or are you British nobility…and your money is hundreds of years old? No wonder you know how to deal with me, Lindon…you have experience with fancy pants…"

With the tea set to steep, Lamont props himself agains the counter. "My mother's father was an American mining industrialist. He had no male children, and my mother was his only child. She was an heiress….and yes, she did marry into the English nobility. I have no title myself, being a younger son…though we did have money there, too. Because of the way English law worked, the estate went entirely to my elder brother. I had some bequests through other relatives, but mostly, my inheritance is through my mother," he admits, easily.

Lindon says wryly, "Maybe I have a type." He putters more, just like a content hausfrau. Once everything that needs to be cooking is cooking, he starts setting the table. "My parents worked," he says, "but they had some money tucked away. It became ours when they passed. Well, mine, but I set up my sister comfortably. We're not rich, but…"

Maximus looks from Lindon to Lamont, curiously. "Maybe. But…I think it likely that…like attracts like. You don't hear too many peasants…ending up with a princess, do you? Not really. Its all the same families. That's why the historical families of Europe are all cousins to each other." He actually seems to be upset about the injustice of it all, in his tone, "Its /terrible/ genetics, living like that." No, nevermind, he's concerned about the gene pool.

"Indeed," Lamont agrees, with no hesitation. "Happily, issue on that front is not a current concern of mine." Then there's some strange noise from the street below….and he's excusing himself to investigate it. Purely for curiosity's sake.

Lindon watches Lamont go to nose around. "He's like a cat," he murmurs to Maximus after the door closes. "Has to know what's going on all the time." He siles crookedly. Alas, when Lamont leaves, he leaves Lindon in charge of the drinks. Staring at the tea for a moment, he picks up a bottle of whiskey and splashes a generous dollop into each cup. "There. That should do it. All right, it's almost time to eat. I hope he doesn't take too long."

Maximus leans in and narrows his steel eyes at Lindon. "And this is the guy you are in love with? In love, right? Rich. Doesn't work. Wanders off like a cat…a tomcat. And you share a love of planes. Has he taken you up in a plane? Do you go flying? He's fine looking, I suppose, but it seems so odd. You're sure he's not after your mind…" Well, what are friends for, if not to be suspicious.

Lindon shakes his head and says, "Oh no, I've never flown with him. I mean I would if he wanted to, it's just never come up yet. "You're right, he's very fine looking. And protective. I'm sure he's interested in my intellect, but Maximus you should see how viciously he defends me. He'd kill for me." Which gives his cheeks a flush, but he's hasty to add, "I don't want him to kill, but…"

Maximus wets his lips. "Really? YOu said..you don't want him to kill, but has he?" He asks in a dramatic whispers, "How romantic that must be to have someone like you so much."

Lindon's cheeks flush darker. He opens his mouth, closes it, then says, "No, I don't think he's killed anyone over me, but I haven't really asked." He grins, though and ducks his head. Infatuation just makes him adorkably awkward. He delivers the boozy drink, then heads into the kitchen to serve up dinner. Lamonts will be put in the oven on low to keep warm. "It's nice to be liked that much," he admits. "I'm not used to it. Everything is new."

Maximus moves from the counter to the kitchen as well, then settles in, "I'm going to have to move out…face things again. But, this has been a fine respite from…everything." He takes the spiked tea and brings it up for a refined sip, nice and slow, like there's all the time in the world. "I've done my best, you know, but you still keep doing it. Right now, its the blushing."

"You can stay here as long as you like," Lindon is quick to say, "and come back if you need to. Starting over can be rough.: He settles at the table and dishes up dinner, giving Maximus the larger portion. It's a fine chicken cacciatore. "Doing what?" he asks, giving Maximus a patently confused look.

Maximus picks up his fork and knife, plotting out how he will devour the bird on his plate, in the sauce and all that. Maybe he's never had it before. He just assumes that whatever Lindon cooks will be great. "The thing where you are attractive. I do get it. Why he likes you so well. You are a fine person, and you still know how to blush. I know that you don't mean to. I think I just need to be around people I can't stand." Maximus jokes at the last.

Lindon says quietly, "Oh. I'm sorry. Thank you." He smiles, despite trying not to, and he busies himself with cutting into his chicken as more color creeps into his cheeks. "Why do you need to be around people you can't stand? We're having a nice time, aren't we?" He glances up, shy but hopeful. "I like having you around."

|ROLL| Maximus +rolls 1d20 for: 8

Maximus aggressively cuts into his chicken and is silent for a bit. "Yes. Its a nice time." He agrees, then completely alters the subject. "So, if you know how to fly a plane…could you also just…hop into a tank…one of those metal war-vehicles, and drive that too? Is that in there? Secret, military information?"

Lindon watches Maximus curiously, though he feigns keeping attention on his dinner. "I don't have the muscle memory that would make it reflexive, but…" He thinks about this, going over the odds in his mind. "Yes, I think I could drive a tank. I don't know that I have secret military information, but I don't know that I don't." He pauses, then explains, "I don't know necessarily what is or isn't classified."

"I imagine its harder to sort out. I was just curious…if I wrote a book, and hid it away and never showed you, would you still learn it someday? If its written…anywhere…is it yours?" Maximus asks with an air of the scientific, as he bites through his chicken. "This is good, though, not unexpected from you."

"Maybe," Lindon says. "It's not so much access to the information as it is volume. I can only hold so much in my head at any given time, and I don't have a photographic memory or anything like that. Your book would be in there, somewhere, but finding it would take a lot of seeking, and if I don't know what I'm looking for, it comes down to luck. Lots of stuff pops in there randomly. There's just so much information to sift through." He sighs quietly, but then smiles. "Thank you. I've been thinking about it all week."

"I should start paying someone to write terrible books, just to annoy you, but based on the drivel in the papers, that is already constantly achieved by human civilization. I pity you the amount of garbage that must be floating around with cooking recipes and magnificent discovery." Maximus muses with some returning good humor, though there is something resolute about him, now.

Lindon laughs. "It's a low bar," he says with genuine amusement. "But I've gotten good at suppressing the stuff that's too tedious to pay attention to. Like baseball scores. Am I a bad American, that I have no interest in baseball?" He watches Maximus for a moment, tilts his head, and says, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Maximus lets out a sudden, mad, laugh. He tilts to the left and leans his elbow on the table. "My thoughts? You want to buy them for a penny? Which ones? You're a smart fellow…you cannot be that smart, and also not have any idea what I'm thinking. Why don't you guess…and I'll tell you if you are right."

"I think you've got plans kicking around in that mind of yours," Lindon says. "Because it's sharp and never stops working. You're trying to suss out what your advantages are, and how my smarts might tie in to that. I think you're not sure how you're going to achieve your objective, but I know you've already got one."

Maximus makes a grunt sound. "Well, perhaps in the back of my mind, but…you really aren't part of my plans. You were…but now you aren't. I took that off. A rule. No using Lindon. Except perhaps as a distraction when I try to go terrorize the Lux. I'm glad that you were a fair bit off on what is really on my mind though. I still have some mystery, then."

Lindon grins broadly, and he ducks his head. "That's very kind of you to say. Anyway, I'm afraid I'm not very good at reading minds, though I can usually pinpoint motivations. You are a complete mystery to me, Maximus." There is delight in the way Lindon says it. "Everything about you is new to me, every time."

Maximus does manage to behave himself for the rest of dinner, and then he hides in his room and puts on headphones, in case Lamont and Lindon get all cozy!

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