&quot;To whom much is given, much will be required.&quot;

@starsandmusings

The Lebanese restaurant on the Upper East Side had corporate hang written all over it. The walls were painted black. The lights were on even though it was three o’clock in the afternoon and the menu was whatever the chef was in the mood too cook that day.

He didn’t mind the place nor the chattering of the other customers around him and Greg that were chowing on their monkfish, kebabs, and shawarma. They fit right in.

“So, how are things going for you with Tom and Matsson?” Kendall asked.

userhirsch

"Oh, uh, well.." Greg first stammered in response. "It's going great so far, I think? I'm definitely.. adjusting to it, that's the word. I'm fine, really. Nice of you to ask though." Not that he was gonna complain in front of Kendall, he truly was trying his best to manage his current situation. Sitting here though, it wasn't Greg's favorite topic when with Kendall, at least not right now in this moment with other things in mind that they could discuss.

"But..more importantly, how are you like, doing with everything?" He tried to look out for him, even if the two hadn't been exactly close lately. He was grateful for the invitation to grab a bite in the first place, and Greg's put in a thanks earlier in their conversation too. His worry about how he's been feeling was sincere. "..if you want to talk, i'm here. I can listen for a beer or two."

#starsandmusings #v; post show

“He has problems with transitions,” Kendall said as he took his cup of coffee and took a sip. His hand was sweating. Never a good sign. “Like, it takes him a while to adjust to wherever he is. So, like, he has to sit somewhere quiet so that he adapt to the new setting.”

He wasn’t sure whether he was getting it right. Rava would be better at explaining these things. She always was. “And, like, he doesn’t pick up on social cues. It’s like my face is a complete blank to him and he can’t tell whether I’m, like, angry or sad or whatever, you know?”

frxncaise

“That is normal for someone on the spectrum,” Angélique mused with a nod. She too needed a brief adjustment period, though it was not obvious to those around. It was called that for that exact reason. Then again, she had gone on with life undiagnosed for so long that she had learned her own coping mechanisms.

“I know what you mean,” She paused to take in a sip of her drink. “You're a good dad to remember all these things.” Earnest as ever, she never was a sycophantic yes man to him.

@starsandmusings

The Lebanese restaurant on the Upper East Side had corporate hang written all over it. The walls were painted black. The lights were on even though it was three o’clock in the afternoon and the menu was whatever the chef was in the mood too cook that day.

He didn’t mind the place nor the chattering of the other customers around him and Greg that were chowing on their monkfish, kebabs, and shawarma. They fit right in.

“So, how are things going for you with Tom and Matsson?” Kendall asked.

DID THIS GUY JUST CHUG A MARTINI?

Were Pyotr not so overwhelmed by his vampiric senses' ability to perceive all of the alcohol and grime and B.O in this place—not to mention the overstimulating sounds and flashing lights—he might have clocked that the man was essentially drinking water with olive juice—not an actual martini. What actually happens, though, is that Pyotr is quite impressed.

When the man's next drink arrives, Pyotr raises his own rocks glass. "Cheers."

He chuckles, shakes his head. "We are in similar positions, then." While those around them find much, much more exciting positions to contort into.

“Bottoms up.”

Kendall sipped the non-alcoholic martini and set it down. He wondered where the stock broker that managed his currency buy-ins was in this forsaken place.

“What kind of a business are you in?” he asked the guy. “Judging from your accent, I’m guessing import-export?”

uniiicornmemes

On anon or not, tell me what YOUR headcanons for my muse are.

#& meme

captain-benson

Olivia stayed quiet as she listened to the man’s story. He hadn’t been brought in because he was truly a suspect, but they were trying to interview anyone that was on the guest list that seemed to have any tie to the victim at hand. He hadn’t simply been the first to show up to answer their questions.

“So the two of you weren’t actively together.” She noted. “That’s good to know. Do you think anyone could have issue with her family, more so than her?” She was looking for other routes they may be able to explore.

Olivia paused. “Worried about someone? Do you know how we might be able to get in contact with Tabitha?” She hadn’t been someone on their list to call in.

#captainbenson #v; post show

“I mean, I think that most people who are right wing don’t particularly like PGN or the Pierces,” Kendall said. “Since their news is more objective, it tends to piss off a lot of people.” ATN was at the other end of that scale and, looking back on it now, the amount of shit that he had to deal with because of that network gave him a headache.

“The most those people would do is egg her house,” he continued. “Like, I don’t think that anyone would do anything serious to any of the because, like, their security is through the roof.” Tern Haven was a fortress when he had been there years ago and so was the house in Marin County where Nan had lived as well. No way somebody would be able to get around those things.

He pulled out his phone, scrolled, and handed it over to Olivia. “That’s Tabitha’s phone number,” he said. “She works as an entrepreneur, so she travels a lot.”

"Montauk," she repeats, acknowledging and appreciating.

What Kendall says next about his potential breakdown doesn't surprise Lottie—not the fact that he reveals something like that so quickly, not the fact that it happened in the first place. She's not completely oblivious to the Roy name. They're more like celebrities, though—even wealthier than the people Lottie knows through her father's corporate connections. Still, the publicized drama was certainly on her radar—even if she'd rather focus on things like how many bees are in the honeycomb or if Natalie is going to be okay Lottie is ever going to be okay without Natalie.

"Maybe you'd like to come visit, then. Camp Green Pine. It sounds like you share some of the values that are most important to me."

Camp. Jeez Louise, Kendall thought, how fucking bourgeois could you get? He had never been to a camp except for Interlochen when he was in high school and that hadn’t been a camp. No canoeing, no scary stories a round a campfire, just days of classes and rehearsals for a concert where he played a concerto, some chamber music, and some solo pieces for an adoring audience of his own peers.

However, there was something nice about getting away from it all. Leaving the city and all of its problem behind, but he hesitated a little. That’s what Montauk was for, wasn’t it? To get away? And yet he knew that it wasn’t entirely true. The city encroached on him there.

“Sure,” he said to Lottie. “Sounds good. How long do people stay for, if you don’t mind me asking? Like, a month? Two weeks?”

WELL, FUCK, THEN THIS GUY IS A FAR MORE MATURE MAN THAN PYOTR ANDREYEV KUMARIN. Pyotr would insist that he doesn't care, that it's something else entirely, something lesser, but frankly, he would be being dishonest.

Some people come here because they have jobs to do, Pyotr nearly corrects, but then it's like, oh, what do you do for work, what kind of job would bring you to a place like this, etc., and he's just not willing to go there.

"I don't see you having any sex."

Kendall could have asked the same thing, but he ordered a non-alcoholic martini from the bartender, downed it, and wiped some sweat off from his brow. He looked around at the various forms in the darkened space, a warehouse in Bushwick by the looks of it, and listened to the loud electronic music blaring through the speakers that was making his ears bleed.

“I’m not here for the sex,” he told the man as he signaled the bartender to bring him another drink. “I’m actually here for a business meeting. My guy is out there somewhere really enjoying himself.”

#& ooc #tumblr circa 2015-19 #was wild #and the giveaways?#i remember someone literally gave away cookies

// Anybody else remember those milestone posts that people would make when they hit a certain amount of followers and there were discourse on the dash when someone felt like they were completely left out?

Those were the days.

KENDALL IS NOT IMPRESSED. At least, uh-huh indicates as much to Charlotte. She isn't bothered, though, not at an ego-level; she cannot be what everybody needs her to be immediately upon meeting them. Sometimes, her insights take time. Kendall would have been happier if she donated to the ballet or mentored young prodigious musicians. She cannot lie and claim those things. She can only be honest about what she wants from the world—how she wants to be good to it, to It, in every possible way.

And, yeah, they kind of are living off the land and doing sun salutations in the morning. Instead of saying that, though, Charlotte just laughs softly, rotates her glass in place.

"You would be surprised," she explains, "How much the land has to offer when you really look. When you really ask for something from your surroundings. Ask nicely, of course—but ask. And everything really will be alright in a way that you just wouldn't believe."

Kendall nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s why I decided to live in Montauk. Out there, it’s different than it is here. It’s peaceful and quiet and, like, I can hear myself think. A lot of my friends and my sister think that I, like, went completely nuts when I moved out there and dropped everything to live a different lifestyle, but it’s, like, the most sane I’ve ever been.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he took another sip.

“And, yeah, like, I think that’s what nature is supposed to do. Get you into contact with your true self. Like, strips all the layers and then fuckin’… Well, there you are, right?”