savetheearth | Blind Faith, Heartache, Mind Games, Mistakes [Closed, January 2]

Entry tags:

Blind Faith, Heartache, Mind Games, Mistakes [Closed, January 2]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and Cesar Sanchez-Ortiz
What: Not quite friendship, not quite animosity; everything depends on where it goes from here.
When: January 2, Friday
Where: Tea-riffic Coffee
Warnings: Nothing yet!

Most of the coffee shops in the area recognize Lazarus as the owner of the controversial Espresso Yourself; fortunately, the one Cesar suggested isn't one of the ones that have a particularly strong opinion of Numbered; he gets a few glances when he comes in despite a non-ostentatious manner of dressing and holding himself, but what's known isn't given voice, and he's able to take a seat in a back booth without incident or comment after ordering a traditional cappuccino. As he waits for Cesar to arrive, his fingertips play idly with the edges of an envelope while his iPhone sits nearby. The number tattooed on his palm is visible at moments, and though he looks better than he did, the shade of his skin and the deep circles under his eyes say that he's been ill recently.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cesar lifts a hand for fingerspelling, even as he follows L's gaze. He needs to practice, doesn't he?

Not that much. He reaches for the tablet instead.

They're classics, but also very stupid. You get to see what everyone thought the future would be like in 1985.

Nostalgia is part of it, too.

It would be a fair amount of fingerspelling. L bites his lip, thinks of the self-inflicted cuts in his arms and how, prior to his surgery and Octavia's healing, the resulting tendon damage would have prevented him from communicating this way. His hands were weak and clumsy and largely atrophied, and only his index fingers and thumbs bent the way they were supposed to. Now, the surface scars remain, but the deepest damage has been repaired, and his hands are capable of forming those dexterous shapes. If nothing else, he can offer that much to Cesar, the promise of teaching him how to communicate more effectively with the loss of his voice. It would be more involved than teaching Anthony Braille, but if L had learned anything over the years, even if people didn't like him, they could usually use at least one thing he had or knew.

Nostalgia's dangerous to inquire about, though. L is catching on, understanding that the danger of getting too close means dredging up Moises, especially where the past is a factor. Very likely, the brothers watched these movies together, and it could be dangerous to inquire further about them. But that's unfair, people don't scatter breadcrumbs without expecting the crows to go for at least a few of them.

"What is wrong with the second one? The obsessive-compulsive completionist in me wonders," he says, and that is an interesting mess of signs to get across. "And how far into the future, and what is it like? Ridiculous?"

The signs get a look, but they're amused. To say 'completionist', apparently, L bastardized the sign for 'complete'.

'It was 20 or so years forward and back from 1985. 1955 for the past. For the future--

He does the math, and his face cracks into a grin, shoulders shaking. I think it was this year, actually. The show thinks we should all have self-lacing shoes and hover skateboards.

Cesar lifts his hands, still smiling. He makes the sign for future, trying to convey something while he looks around. It looks as though he wants to continue it up with something, but drops it when he doesn't have the signs.

There's nothing wrong with the second movie, by the way. It's just not very good.

Well, that's different. L seems startled for a moment, but relaxes when he identifies Cesar's mood as decidedly amused.

"Sign Language... any language is about communication, more than perfection," he explains, just a touch self-consciously. He knows he's right, so why be more embarrassed than he has to be? "Sometimes you have to improvise."

This is good. Cesar's mood appears to be lighter, he's even laughing, albeit completely silently. "I think we should have those, too," he speaks and signs, "to be fair. I hate tying my shoes. Not so much, anymore, since I got my hands fixed, but it's really a pain."

He pauses, considering something.

"They sound really stupid, but if you like them despite that, well... maybe you could show them to me. Since I'm catching up on movies I didn't see before, anyway... I'd probably regret dying without seeing something so many people like so much."

It's a pretty bold request. The implications are letting L into his house, spending up to six hours with him, possibly on the same piece of furniture. He asks like he doesn't expect an eager, acquiescing answer.

It's a bold request, enough so that Cesar thinks it through, and then thinks it through some more. Then he tilts his head to the side, following it up with a nod.

He doesn't like L, not in that chummy a way. Why not? There was a time when he had a wide network of friends, and was spending time with people every other night. If the Cesar-from-then were here, he'd not just agree, but make a taco-making party out of it. What's changed?

Moises. The nights alone in his kitchen, watching the phone. The things that Cesar's done, and while none of this is coming to mind consciously right now, they've never really stopped standing over him. He'd stopped going out drinking with friends in this time, and started drinking alone.

Any other movies on your bucket list?

L was right: It's not an eager, acquiescing answer. On the flip side, it's not a 'no', either.

The nod says "yes," even if Cesar hasn't explicitly. It seems to hearten L; having never known the Cesar who regularly went out with his friends and was the type to throw taco-making parties, it was actually the best possible outcome, in his mind. The absence of a formal invitation still hangs uneasily over the table, but for now, L will assume that's what he meant.

He'll even drink alone alongside Cesar, if that's what it comes down to.

"I don't get a lot of recommendations," he said. "Once at a tournament, after he lost our game, this kid told me to 'go watch Schindler's List'. I knew that Walter had it, so I tried watching it when he was out buying cigarettes, but..." he laughs, and it's a really broken sound. "It wasn't actually a recommendation, you know. I like puppets," he stresses, with a firm nod to drive the point home.

Shock. Cesar knows just enough about L's background to realize why this sort of thing would have been cruel, even moreso than usual. L wouldn't have had an older brother (Moises), or even parents around to catch on to what was happening and stop him. L is Jewish. It would've been like throwing sand in a kitten's eyes.

He can imagine it easily: a skinny, trusting L, sitting in the suit from a tournament, eyes wide and expectant... Then--Schindler's List.

He needs to learn the signs for this as soon as possible. For now, long fingers dart across the tablet. Dios mio, que pendejo.

What an asshole.

Edited 2015-01-05 05:22 (UTC)

He doesn't sign. For the moment, his hand is curled tightly into a fist in front of him on the table, even if his expression still looks rigid and overly placid.

"Yeah," he agrees, after a moment. "He was an asshole. And a child. I took a title away from that child, and he lashed out the best way he knew how to. And... consequently, I learned something about history, and much bigger assholes, and what could have happened to my grandparents if they hadn't gotten on a boat right when they did. If I hadn't learned then... it would have happened eventually. That's the worst thing about children, isn't it? That they become adults, and then the things that made them merely unpleasant before can hurt a lot of good people."

His coffee is cooler. He can drink more deeply, and does.

"What movies would you have on your bucket list, in a position similar to mine?"

Edited (ICON) 2015-01-05 05:50 (UTC)

The self-righteous offense on L's behalf fades, and Cesar senses that he's misstepped. It's not a common feeling in their relationship. L is right; Cesar disagrees with him, still, since it sounds as though L is leaving the other child blameless, but Cesar can understand intellectually the rest of what L is saying. He can even compare some of it to their own situation, as Numbered.

Cesar wonders if L has been drawing these comparisons all along. The man's number-tattoo isn't visible from the way he holds his cup, but Cesar knows it's there.

Star Battles, Cesar writes. The Headache.

If you haven't seen any major animated films from the last twenty years, then you're probably missing a lot of pop culture references there, also.

This is another way L is difficult to read. Whether he is unusually forgiving or buries his grudges so deeply they are actually a part of his blood and bones is difficult for most to know or guess. But what is obvious is the fact that, in more than one way, L has always been a target. Being Numbered almost isn't even that bad, when held up against all the other things he's been picked on for. Being homechooled hadn't shielded him from bullying, prejudice or the realities of the world not being made for child prodogies... but the Numbers make him stronger. Smarter. Braver.

Better.

He laughs lightly at the two specific recommendations (appropriateness of subject matter?), followed by a category so general and numerous that it would probably be impossible to watch them all without several unbroken months to devote to the task.

"That's a lot of movies," he comments, as if gently pointing out a flaw in a plan. "Perhaps not something you would want to commit to. I can relay some of these to Tony; otherwise, I'd be at your place very frequently."

Can you stand to have the minutes move slowly so often?

Edited (Tablet typo woes) 2015-01-05 16:46 (UTC)

Cesar's eyebrows lift, and this fact seems to occur to him for the first time. Had he been planning to invite L over for all of these recommendations? If he wasn't, he doesn't say so. He just nods slowly, eyebrows lowering again.

Let's not make any plans beyond Back to the Future until those three are done.

Well. He lifts the coffee as though to sip, but it seems he realizes how this might've been taken. He softens the blow with,

With my contracts as they are, Back to the Future itself may take longer than you think.

With neither asking and neither confirming, it's open to an obscene amount of sheer interpretation. Would Cesar invite L to cross the threshold of his home, taking the risk that he's given a monster his house keys? Or would he shut out a searching, potentially kindred spirit and let the door freeze shut, like the ones on the freshly arrived Delorean in the stupid, nostalgic movies that he likes?

This. Is heavy.

"Contracts?" he asks, voice quiet and cautious. "For your work, of course... I understand being at work, even when you're not at work. If your mind never leaves it, why should you? The only reason this species makes any progress that matters is because there are people who never leave their work. Does it make you proud? That there are the average people, who stop sometimes... but that keeping at it gives you something in common with those who are exceptional?"

Is that how you can sleep at night, now?

I don't work out of pride, L. I work because it's interesting, and because I think it has more potential than most people realize.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and yet again, it's a new one L hasn't seen. A curl here, a sharpness there--it's like watching a camera's view come into focus.

Think. I'm legally not allowed to discuss anything about my project that hasn't been publicly released, but if you had the secret to something as big as this, and if you could actively explore something as fascinating, wouldn't you pursue it?

His eyes are sharper and brighter, and the micro-creases around his eyes are genuine.

L tilts his head, one eye squinting almost imperceptibly. The smile is new, to the point where it practically mocks the simplistic description he'd cobbled together on his scorecard. He pulls that searching stare away from Cesar's face after several moments so he can read the tablet's screen, taking longer than he usually does to process printed words.

Are you taking pleasure in your work, or in the fact that it's something I have no hope of getting you to tell me? I wonder.

"I would, of course. It's a gift, to care so much about a field or pursuit that it puts so much meaning in your life... you should revel in it."

He's not sure if that smile should put him at ease, or on pins and needles.

"We're all working to leave the world a better place than we found it. I'm truly glad that you can, and even more that you find it fascinating."

Whatever it is...

The smile turns gracious, and he nods. Pins and needles, L.

{I'm glad, too.}

He returns to the tablet, deliberately coasting on the good mood.

Speaking of callings, I was wondering if I could ask you a question.

It would seem that the pound of flesh wasn't an adequate offering, after all. L's dark eyes are wide and uncertain.

It could be innocent.

L swallows, lifts his cup, drinks more coffee.

It'll be something he didn't think he could ask before. He used the word "calling."

"Oh? Is that so? I'll do my best to answer."

A favor, or something sensitive... I wager one of those.

Edited 2015-01-06 08:12 (UTC)

Cesar is better than L at timing, but this does not mean he's very good at all. It's a small blessing that he's noticed the shift in L's look. His own smile fades, replaced by something sober.

(The expression is more fitting for this anyway, isn't it?)

Do you still do work as a detective?

Alarms are blaring in his own mind, shouting the dangers of going anywhere near these treacherous waters. He ignores them: L is interested in the safety of the Numbered, if nothing else. Cesar is Numbered. He's not even enlisting his help for an investigation, is he? All's well.

So, both.

L doesn't follow the instructions on his scorecard, but his eyes communicate the fact that this has caught him off-guard.

"Some," he answers carefully, after a moment. "More coordination and intelligence-gathering, these days... not as much field work. Why?"

This could mean granting L access to his life again! Temporary access. Yes. And how much does L really need to have consequences? Cesar brings his coffee up, stalling. The coffee is cool enough for a proper drink.

He lowers the cup, hands once again free.

I wanted to know your opinion on something I noticed last week. I have a neighbor that I know is anti-Numbered, and I saw him making strange purchases.

For someone who is using the exaggerated expressions and postures of Muppets to properly learn how to convey human emotion, the implications of Cesar's observations have certainly been written plainly enough across L's pale face. Nothing so cut-and-dried as "happy" or "sad", of course; apprehension and exhaustion play a reluctant duet. A peg slips, a string snaps, and he's rubbing at his temple. He's uncertain about just what it was he was trying to resist, but he can't do it.

It's nothing like a child upset over a chess board. We're the adults now, there are consequences to hatred, and it doesn't end when we turn off the movie.

"Then... you'd better tell me what you saw. My opinion is that it shouldn't be ignored, when so many people have already been hurt so deeply."

I'm not asking you to take on a case or look into it further. I just want your advice.

Advice that L can't give unless Cesar goes ahead and explains to him the problem. He holds the tablet in its place for a few seconds longer anyway, trying to emphasize it. To reassure L? To reassure himself? He'd been so wrapped up in his own troubles that this possibility of how it might affect L hadn't occurred to him.

Large quantities of rat poison. More than an entire family could ever use, more than if the entire building was infested. Duct tape. Edged objects that I couldn't identify through the bags.

Edited 2015-01-06 19:54 (UTC)

L is good at his job; he never failed to find Moises, or in the months he was deceiving the Mafia through messages and phone calls and convincing them to let him close to Albero. He just didn't have the strength to fight jaguar-men and dog women and people with guns and fists much harder than his. But by taking on all that responsibility, he has to assume responsibility for failing on every level, just by failing on one. Fair or not, it had happened that way, and in the following months he'd turned his focus to more manageable aspects of his career that were more logically sound for someone of his constitution.

You were always meant to stay behind the scenes. Your Other probably was, too.

But during Cesar's absence, he's assumed more responsibility, and more people tie their livelihood to his works and projects. Those he employs, those who have come to rely on him. Saretha for his levelheadedness, Tony for his unique insight to the trauma that still affected him. He has visions of the young people who look to him for guidance writhing in agony as rat poison wastes them, bound in duct tape, and watching those edged objects coming closer to their faces... he had told Cesar once that the best way to torture someone who would die for a cause was to force them to feel helpless, hadn't he?

"You're asking me what I think you should do?" he inquires, no longer interested in his half-empty coffee cup. "Nothing that I couldn't do more effectively. You don't have to ask me to take this case; now that I'm aware of it, I have no choice but to act."

Edited 2015-01-06 20:02 (UTC)

A line appears between his eyebrows. What do you plan to do?

Mierda. This is no surprise, honestly, but it's both more and less than he'd hoped. It's for the better; the last time he'd ignored a sign, he'd wound up bound and sedated on a surgical table. The time before that--well, this is no time to dwell on his mistakes, is it?

L's hand cradles his cheek as he rests his bony elbow on the surface of the table.

"Nothing so daring or dramatic as past cases. My Other would probably not waste his time on something so mundane. I have to break into his car, obviously. Maybe his house as well. Wire taps, cameras, and a lot of camping out near his property. Typical private eye stuff, and if substantial proof comes up, it goes to the police, and they handle it from there."

Wow...

Is that what you do in all your cases? He holds the tablet in two hands, and L has a new expression to associate with meanings behind meanings: are you sure this isn't excessive for what this is? Wide eyes. Close eyebrows. Skepticism that's torn between trust and doubt.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject