It is raining, because it is Boston, and Boston is always full of rain in the spring. Especially on days where important things might happen. The Boston Commons has been filled with people despite the rain, and traffic is as much of a mess as in the days of the Project - even taxi drivers sometimes get turned around - but it is Boston, and there's something comfortably enduring about that.
     The hotel is not far from Harvard, because of a combination of favorable rate and everybody in the family knows how to find it. (It's where Skip Alcott, Emily's ex-husband, threw a policeman in the fountain while drunk. There's a reason why he's the ex...)
     Bit by bit, family has been trickling in and claiming their rooms. Cousins, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts - all sorts of people, and a few others who don't quite fit any description. As long as everybody has to be in Boston anyway, why not make a thing of it? But for now, there's still only a double handful, and of those, many have gone to check out old haunts and rehash old victories and try not to talk about the losses. And the rest are in the lobby, trickling in further, watching the light bounce off the great old chandelier or bellying up to the bar to drink whiskey sours or manhattans.

     It really is like London...
     He wasn't entirely sure of what to pack, and so only the essentials were packed conventionally. Everything else will be found at the convenience of the universe -- which, if you are an ap Iowerth, or a 'Davies', is most convenient, indeed.
     They arrived sometime in the morning, he's not really sure what time. Conventional travel's a bit odd, really. You move about in Space and Time, same as the Other, but somehow there's more math involved.
     Dressed in a navy jacket and trousers with a black pull over beneath that -- a light knit cashmere -- Balthazar Davies wanders into the main lobby. There will be no whisky sours for him, he's not yet twenty-one according to his passport, but he is moving in the general direction of the bar, hands in his pockets, his eyes on the lookout for Miss Madison West.
     Brown hair is styled short and neat, dark mostly but with the bits of cinnamon here and there, quite naturally. He glances to Loki, slowing his steps and leaning back a little. "Do you know everyone?" he quietly asks.

     It takes a certain amount of willpower and concentration to not end a transatlantic flight looking bedraggled, even in first class. Loki has actually managed this in his own mortal way, though he hasn't been able to pull off "crisp" after that many hours in a plane. Even good travelwear has its limits.
     "Not everyone," he says, trailing along as much in Balthazar's wake as beside him. "I've seen about three quarters of the people who're showing up here, and I could name less than half. I get a lot of mileage out of looking polite and inoffensive until they clue me in to where I met them before."

     Pres is in the bar, occupying a table to himself and slouched down as if trying not to be spotted. He has a rum and Coke - it looks enough like Coke that mumsie won't immediately zero in on the underage drinking, after all. He spots Balthazar and Loki and lifts a hand in an offhanded salute. "Graduation girl's still getting dressed. Pull up a chair before mumsie spots me, will you?"

     "I am fairly sure I won't remember everyone's name. Is there any family gossip I should know about? Anyone with a drinking problem, lost a limb on a train track," he smiles. "I don't want to start telling a story about railroad hobos and find out the hard way that I've crossed some cultural boundary...ah, there's Pres..."
     Balthazar is not hard to spot. He is tall and he has a way of entering a room. (In his wake is a very golden, warm place to be, after all.) He smiles to Pres as he comes near, leaning in to lower his voice: "Operation Human Shield, is it? Of course," he waves Loki to take a seat ahead of him. He'll follow wherever. But in the meantime, he makes a very serviceable wall.
     "Good to see you again, Pres," he reaches forward, offering his hand for a shake while Loki makes himself comfortable.

     "I've been out of touch, but I probably would have heard from someone by now if there were any dramatic tragedies in the last few years."
     Except for the disaster I didn't hear about, so maybe I'm wrong on that point.
     Pres gets a thin, if sincere smile as Loki takes up his place in blocking lines of sight. "Isn't she busy dealing with Maddie, today of all days?"

     "She wasn't when I went up there," Pres answers with a shrug. "I think she's catching up with Auntie Em. Dad's talking with granddad and grandmum though."
     He takes a long, thirsty swallow, sprawling back in his chair. He has a handsome cane with him today, mahogany wood with a gold band. He wears tan dockers and a white button-up shirt with a black tie with a single red stripe to match his black dress shoes. It's all terribly prep, really.
     "Get whatever you want. Granddad's paying for my tab..."

     "I'll go to the bar," Balthazar offers, not yet seated. "Want a refill?" he asks Pres -- never anything less than warm and cordial. And then to Loki. "And for you?"
     It is a very subtle, very conscientious, and entirely smooth segue. He will give you two a few moments to chat before he interrupts again. It's quite courtly, really, and such courtliness is ...natural to him.

     "Whatever you're having," Loki says to Balthazar, his thank you entirely in expression before he turns back towards Pres.

     "A refill would be great, thanks," Pres answers nonchalantly. He watches Balthazar for a moment, then shrugs and looks at Loki. "So. How's London treating you? Holding up?"

     There's only a nod. You're welcome.
     Balthazar heads to the bar. There is a smile, some conversation. Yes, I am from England. London...well...Wales via London.
     He lingers, and as he waits: two white russians and a rum and coke are prepared. Not so much as a passport shown. Nothing was requested.
     His charm is a golden kind, infused with honey and cinnamon, appealing and alluring.
     Yes, on the tab please... thank you...

     "Pretty well," Loki says, with a twitchy shrug that doesn't entirely belie his claim. "Nothing too new, but it keeps me busy. When I get back I need to hunt down a place of my own so that I'm not living in my dad's flat forever. How's Los Angeles been? Unbearably hot yet?"
     "Wouldn't know. That'd require going outside." Pres smirks at Loki for a moment, then shrugs. "My apartment's okay. School's temperature-controlled, so's my car. I'm thinking of transferring next semester, though. Going to Hawaii got me thinking."

     "The best way to handle L.A. is not to go outside," Loki says, glancing only briefly off towards where Balthazar's gone. "There are probably better schools out there. Wait, scratch 'probably', there are better schools out there. Any place particular in mind yet?"

     "Hawaii." Pres' grin turns lopsided, and he shrugs and finishes off his drink. "I'm crippled, not dead. And if I can get my leg fixed... and besides, Hawaii's about as far from mumsie as I can get and still be somewhere I might want to be. Only question is whether you'd visit. I know sand and surf isn't exactly your thing."
     A familiar if wild-haired head pops round the edge of the bar, peeking furtively and then withdrawing. Pres continues, oblivious. "Anyway, I've got about a quarter of what I need..."

     Loki swivels a quarter turn in his seat, discreet sign of Not entirely alone as he says, "You want me to come visit in Hawai'i once you get there? Oh, the horror, the horror. I'm not big on the ocean, but somehow I think I'll be able to find the courage to face the islands yet again. I can also demand you split the difference and come to London once in a while, so that I'm not the only one dealing with airplanes."

     He holds the three drinks in a triangled grasp between both hands. It's quite the trick. Balthazar bends, placing all three drinks on the table at once. "Rum and coke, I believe," he says to Pres, sliding the glass toward him. "And a caucasian."
     The other caucasian he keeps for himself, giving the concoction a bit of a stir. "I'll be back in a moment." You two probably need another moment, his courtliness never failing to catch the subtleties of human nature, and ... to be honest... there's someone else he wants to see.
     The beautiful young man with the foreign accent and the nice suit will go make friends in the meantime. Sipping at the white russian, Balthazar gives the room a survey, looking hither and yon for an auburn-haired girl...

     "Well, I am coming this summer, so you've got me for two months, more or less, depending on how transferring goes," Pres retorts. "But yeah, I think I can cope somehow." He takes the glass from Balthazar with an easy nod. "Sure. Thanks for saving me the trip. I'm having a worse day than usual with my leg today."
     He turns his attention back to Loki. "So can you afford a place on your own? I know you were staying with him because that was a problem."

     Meanwhile, there is someone playing cat and mouse with the beautiful young man. As he surveys, Maddie slips from behind a pillar, doing her best to sneak up behind him. Her hair has been put into a somewhat unruly braided bun, and she wears a white summer dress with a matador's crimson jacket over it and crimson heels on her feet. Her expression is aloft with delighted mischief...

     "The band's doing well," Loki says, with an automatic defensiveness that he's able to drop after a sip of his drink. Pres isn't the one who's going to be criticizing him on that point. "I can handle it if I'm careful. I've been saving what I get and living off the usual allowance, so I have some flexibility while waiting for things to pick up further."

     If he is aware that the Game is Afoot, he is playing it awfully nonchalantly. That's all the proof anyone needs that he's completely oblivious. Balthazar trades introductions with a couple -- West cousins, it turns out -- and he smiles as he sips the white russian.
     There's something golden in it all. The way he moves and the way the air is around him. He glances toward the table to see how Loki and Pres are doing. Balthazar unconsciously works the room. By the end of the night, he'll be a topic of conversation, to be sure.

     "I wasn't worried," Pres protests. "I just figured I could con mumsie into paying 'rent' to you while I'm in London. I mean, I am staying with you, right? That's still the plan, isn't it?"

     There is a sudden blur of motion as Maddie pounces. Hands lift to cover Balthazar's eyes from behind, although it takes a bit of reaching up on tiptoe. "Behold," she stage-whispers in a dramatic fake accent, "zee mistress of zee dark arts hazzz zurprized you!"

     "It's still the plan. And London rent costs more than my last attempt at a college education did, so if your mother's willing to help chip in on rent..." Loki sips his drink and lets the rest go without saying. "Have you picked up tickets for that yet? I could use the arrival date so I can keep that in mind when looking at lease starts. Your university's website refuses to give up the date for the end of spring semester without a student ID login, for what it no doubt believes are good security reasons."

     He is his grandfather's progeny, for though he is surely surprised, the drink is salvaged...
     Balthazar turns his head a little to glance behind him and to you through the cracks of your fingers. He smiles. "Do you do fortune-telling? Palm reading, perhaps?" He turns to face her, a hand to her side as he leans in and places a kiss upon each of her cheeks. "Madame," he teases in his own stage whisper.
     "I have missed you," he says quietly. Cinnamon eyes lift from Madison West to take momentary glances. To exits, no doubt.

     "I haven't, but I can," Pres offers. He takes out his phone and slides it open to fiddle with it, setting his drink aside. "My university sucks dick. Here, I'll give it a try." He presses buttons, expertly navigating through travel options. "Do you have a car? Do we need a car?"

     She blushes as red and as happily as any rose, accepting kisses and seizing hold of Balthazar's hand with both of her own. "Palm reading... I could try, but I'm better at climbing palm trees than at reading palms of hands. Hi, cousin Bryce, cousin Nan. Did Baz introduce himself to you yet?"
     She winks at Balthazar, murmuring sotto voce, "I missed you so much that I'm having trouble sitting still. Let's see if we can find a corner nobody'll find us in and I'll show you how much."

     "I have no car. I don't even have a UK driver's license. Public transportation's good, getting parking is a bitch. How would your mother feel about subsidizing a lot of taxi use?" Loki pulls out his own phone and starts calling up information. "The rates aren't that bad if you're not using them to travel all the way across the city. Or I can get a place with attached parking, and a car. Rent's just higher that way."

     A secluded corner would be nice about now...
     Pivoting back to Nan and Bryce, Balthazar smiles. "I just did, actually. They were telling me that there's a number of things to see, just right around the corner." He nods back to them but his attention is quite clearly drawn to the West. As all suns are...
     "Would you like to take a quick walk?" he wonders multo sotto voce, barely audible. His fingers shift a little in her grasp, sliding against her own fingers. "I hear there's a piano down the hall somewhere...."

     "She'll have to. Since she won't pay for the damn operation, I can't exactly walk everywhere." Yep, bitterness's still alive and well. Pres picks up his drink for a swallow now. "When do you want me to come? I can come as soon as next week. That's probably too soon."

     "I'd love to take a walk," Maddie murmurs, leaning into him just a trifle as she gives a bright smile to Nan and Bryce. Bryce is a little sozzled, but Nan gives a sharp look, then smiles. She motions for the two of them to go with a conspiratorial wink, then elbows Bryce in the ribs. It helps that Nan's only all of twenty herself...

     "She can cover a taxi, and we can take a lot of day trips," Loki says dryly. He slides from taxi services to his own schedule on his phone. "Three weeks gives me time to grab housing. Or two, if I get moving from here and dip into savings briefly. At worst, you can take my room in my father's flat until I find something long-term. The place has an elevator."

     "Let's go," the whisper is conspiratorial. A flirtation. An invitation. Finishing his drink, Balthazar glances to Nan and gives a slight wink of thanks. While conversations play from barstool to barstool, table to table, and between brother and friend, the nicely suited foreigner absconds with his American Girl.
     Joined hands become a hand around her waist as they sneak out of the lobby and down the hall toward rooms, restaurant and the other gathering areas.

     "Day trips sound good." Pres looks around lazily. "How long d'you think we have til mumsie comes looking? We should find somewhere else to be. Want help finding something longer term?"

     He has no idea what his sister and the rock musician are up to. Just as well. Maddie snuggles up against Baz' side in a way which, if Pres saw, would cut short any illusions.

     "Not much longer," Loki says. He doesn't have to see Maddie and Baz to have a pretty good idea of why neither of them has come back to have drinks there. "If we skip over to my room, your mother probably doesn't know what number it is, which should slow her down for entire minutes when she comes looking. Or we could skip out entirely towards a real bar that doesn't have a hotel attached. How long until we're expected to make an appearance somewhere?"

     There is laughter as elevator doors close, and the number 5 illuminates on the panel as it is pressed. "How long, do you think, before someone comes looking for you?" Balthazar whispers as the box is on the move.
     Second floor...
     Bending, he speaks just above her ear as his arms slide around her warmly. "I should have spent time on the plane, coming up with excuses to use to keep you in the hotel and in my room."

     Pres is rising to his feet already, reaching for his cane and dropping his phone into his pocket. "Let's go. Nothing official's on until lunch. We're assembling in the lobby around twelve-thirty, one o'clock."
     As long as mumsie's distracted...

     "You totally should have," Maddie answers, snuggling in against Balthazar. "To be honest, only granddad'll really notice if I don't turn up places. Well, Pres and Gilly might, but daddy's working on a new monograph and mumsie," she shrugs. "Mumsie doesn't notice where I am half the time, and the other half the time I wish she didn't." She makes a face. "Anyway, I have my phone on me. She'll call if she can't find me but she needs me, so we'll be able to sneak."

     Loki grabs his glass on the way. "A few hours of breathing space. I think. I may be on California time." His phone gets one cursory examination before it's disposed of in a pocket in much the same manner. "Boston time will just have to do."

Posted by rowan at April 23, 2009 09:35 AM