(2018-12-02) Hello, Young Lovers
Vyv runs into Edgar and Owen at The Bone Yard, where there's a lot more focus on stalkers than strippers. And then, an Anthony arrives.
Players:
anthony..edgar..owen..vyv..

"Yeah, he said he'd had his hands on you," Edgar says, happy to rat out Stan. "But I know better." He kisses Owen, and he's positively glowing. That's right, guys and gals, this one's going home with him. "I could get used to that," he says, gazing at Owen with unsubtle affection. "Nights like this, I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

The pair are standing near the bar, arms around each other. In one of Edgar's hand is a half-empty rusty nail he's no longer paying attention to.

Owen leans up against the bar with his arms around Edgar. He's in his street clothes again after his performance, and has a glass of seltzer water on the bar next to him which he sips from occasionally while a dancer is on the stage performing for the crowd, an impressively muscular man that seems to be a hit with the ladies and gents alike.
"I'm pretty lucky, too," Owen says to Edgar with a smile. "What're your plans for the rest of the night? I'm done here. I was thinking we could go out maybe, grab a drink?" He doesn't drink where he works, not because the drinks are bad — it's just his policy.

Vyv strolls in, looking around the place with casual interest, enough to suggest it might be the first time he's been inside. No problems getting past the bouncer, not now that carding's a general formality and not when he's dressed like that. The suit suggests his money will be just fine. The act on the stage draws his attention for several moments as he walks along, and when his gaze lowers again, it hits Edgar and Owen. He looks surprised, for a moment, and it briefly flickers into something like exasperation before it goes casual again, and he heads their general direction.

"My plans are to be with you, babe," Edgar says. "Whatever you want to do, you got me." When he sees Vyv heading over, he shifts so that he's got one arm around Owen still as he faces the oncomer. He takes a drink of his rusty nail, then offers Vyv an amiable smile. "Hey," he says. "Have you met Owen? Owen, this is Vyv. We met at the B&B."

"I think we met very briefly, or at least crossed paths before, maybe at that party with all the drama?" Owen says, trying to recall where he's seen Vyv before. "You have the patisserie?" He then extends a friendly hand toward Vyv to shake, saying, "Nice to meet you for the first time, or again."

"Hello again," Vyv says, with a faint smile and a small head-tilt of greeting, and he reaches out to accept the hand. It's a perfectly acceptable shake, non-aggressively firm and not unreasonably lingering. "Karaoke night. Though I do recall seeing you both at the ball, when you were playing with the monkey." He indicates Edgar on 'you'. "And, yes, that's right. It's not terribly far from here, actually. I'd been wondering what this place was like inside." Seems more like a statement than something intended as an excuse. "Nice to see you again. Have things settled down on the lodgings front?"

"That's right, karaoke," Edgar says brightly. "Yeah, I remember now." He gives Owen a gentle squeeze and adds, "Yeah, we're staying put. Going to get some doorbells with cameras in case anyone tries any funny business. Can't spend your whole life running, you know?"

"Yes! Karoke," Owen says, snapping his fingers when it's mentioned and he shakes his head. "I knew it was somewhere recently." Edgar was definitely playing with the monkey and Owen definitely was not. "Besides, at least in the building it's more obvious who lives there and who doesn't. If we go to a hotel then we're in a whole building full of people who come and go all the time that are all strangers. Someone unusual is more likely to stand out at home than there."

"No, sometimes there are the field events," Vyv agrees with Edgar, "Actually, I suppose a javelin might come in handy if whoever you're not running from shows up." He was in Owen's camp on the monkey. Also, apparently, on the logic, which gets a nod. "That's true; you'd have to be quite certain they didn't know you were there, or you couldn't trust they weren't the bellboy or the desk clerk or the guest across the hall. If there weren't fewer people moving in and out of your building, you'd probably want to join them. Are you actually in danger, do you think? Have there been many threats?"

Edgar cuddles closer to Owen, and he sets his glass on the bar so he can wrap both arms around him. "We haven't gotten anything this week, thankfully. There were some pretty bad threats, though. Most of the time, these guys are all talk, but it was unsettling enough I didn't sleep so well for awhile. I don't sleep at all unless Owen's with me. I just need to know he's safe."

Owen gives Edgar a bit of a squeeze with one arm and says to Vyv, "Yeah, there were some threats to me. This person is apparently obsessed with Ed and wants me out of the picture. But, we're staying together and keeping an eye on each other, and the cops are keeping an eye on the building, so for right now I think we're doing what we need to do and being careful without stopping our lives."

Vyv's gaze flickers briefly over Owen at that. "At least you look as though you could probably defend yourself," he notes, "though I suppose they'd take that into consideration. Not that I'm the arbiter, but it sounds to me as though you're doing the right things." He pauses briefly, looking thoughtful. "It's been happening regularly for weeks, then? Maybe I ought to find more of your books. Clearly they're compelling. Do you think the person will give up, or are you just hoping they'll slip up soon?"

Edgar gives Vyv a wry look. "None of my books are 'stalk me and threaten my boyfriend' good. I'm hoping they'll see they can't be anonymous anymore and fuck off. It's probably not even someone who's obsessed with me. It's probably someone just being creepy for attention. The cops said at least when these things escalate, the perp tends to mess up." He keeps clinging to Owen. Who is safe, so Ed relaxes a little.

"I mean, I can, if I need to. But I'd rather not have to," Owen says. "I'm not really a trained fighter, but I can bar brawl with the drunkest of them." He says, "Yeah it's been a few weeks now, but it's really only been two incidents so far. Hopefully that's the end of it." He then says to Edgar, "We'll just keep doing what we need to to keep safe. It'll be okay." Then he smiles at Vyv and asks, "So how have you been? How's business?"

"I don't know about that… if they just wanted to be creepy for attention, they could have chosen anyone. Calvin Shay seems to live in town, for example, he's probably got more protection and being-stalked experience, but I suspect he'd still be a better target for pure attention. Authors rarely make TMZ." Easy to be matter-of-fact about these things when they're not aimed at you. Still, Vyv's not unsympathetic, at least in his way. "I'm sure the cops are right. People always say practice makes perfect, but they never point out how many times a person fails during that practice. If they keep going, they're probably getting closer to tripping themselves up every time." And Owen's remark that they're doing what they'll should and it'll be okay gets a nod, as well.
The question, though, gets an eyeroll upward and a huffed breath. "I'm working very hard not to branch out into murder, but some contractors make it remarkably tempting. The shop renovations were supposed to be entirely finished by tomorrow, but they're at least two days behind. It's… irritating. But the rest is going all right, I suppose. The kitchen's done, and I've been doing a few small batches for City Hall and such, so at least it's not a standstill."

"I just can't wrap my head around someone really being that obsessed with me," Ed says. "I'm just a guy." Who writes deep, compelling stuff an emotionally unstable mind might read all sorts of things into. He hides his face against Owen's shoulder at the mention of TMZ. With his past? TMZ would have a field day. "At least you're getting a few batches in," he says. "Still, sucks they're not picking up the pace, especially this time of year."

"Murder is only profitable to branch out into if someone is willing to pay you to kill them," Owen points out, taking his turn to just be practical about things. "Though I guess if they've pissed off some former clients, you could turn that into a profit." There's a glance from someone sitting at the bar nearby and Owen just offers a smile before turning his attention back to Edgar and Vyv. "Let's stop worrying about it for now. We're never going to understand it, so there's no point wasting time turning over and over again. He's cracked, and the cops will get him." He then says to Vyv, "Oh? What are you making for City Hall?"

"Everyone's just a guy," Vyv says, shrugging. "Except women, I suppose. But, yes. We should already be getting the buches de noel prepared, really. And I won't mind not having bumblebees on my lamps again…" His gaze drifts for a moment toward the stage, taking in the current performer, but Owen's remarks actually make one corner of his mouth turn up, fairly definitely. "Sometimes, one moves into new arenas not for profit but for the pure joy of the experience," he replies. "But I've reason to think we can resolve it without me having to become very good friends with a pig farmer, so, fingers crossed." This time, the glance is toward the bar, probably contemplating a drink, but the two of them still win out. "Viennoiseries, mostly," he says, "Croissants and chaussons and pain au chocolat and such for meetings, but also a few small batches of chocolates. It'll be nice to get everything up and running properly."

Edgar kisses Owen's temple and murmurs, "Leave it to you to talk me down." Without interference, Ed does tend to spiral and chew on things. For now, he relaxes, and he latches onto the topic of the patisserie business. "Do you have an online presence?" he asks. "That might at least get you some shipped orders for whatever you can make right now."

Owen gives Edgar another little squeeze and smiles at him. He then says to Vyv, "Oh, that sounds good. All of that sounds good." He glances to Edgar and says, "This shop is going to be dangerous when it opens, Ed. Will you still love me if I get giant love handles from eating a million pastries and need to retire?" He grins. It's not likely to happen.

Vyv lets himself get briefly distracted again for the length of the affections, eyes returning to them when Edgar asks about the website. "Yes, ish," he says, with a bit of irritation in the qualifier, "I had a meeting with the designer today about the last few things that needed fixing. Still. If it weren't for my assistant I'd start worrying if it's Colorado that has this effect on people's competence." Presumably present company are also excepted. Probably quite a few others as well. The theorized danger to Owen's waistline is more pleasing, though. "That would be a shame. But don't worry, I'm sure you can find sufficient ways to work them off. I've somehow survived this far."

Edgar tells Owen, "More of you to love. No one can convince me you wouldn't rock a dad bod." Poor Vyv, there's more affection in the form of a kiss. To Vyv, he says, "If I didn't have a web guy, I would be so lost. He's back in New York, and he keeps track of all that stuff. I can check my email and that's about it."

"True enough," Owen says to Vyv with a chuckle. "I suppose if you can manage to retain your figure, then I should be able to as well. It's achievable, despite the temptation." He does grin over at Edgar and laughs, "Maybe when we get old, we can find that out." He returns the kiss, and then just lets the two of them talk, not having a web guy, or a website, or any sort of a real web presence, which may be part of why his music career never took off.

Poor Vyv, indeed. There's a hint of the same exasperation from just before he joined them, though at least it stays fairly subtle, if not quite subtle enough. Of course, it's not impossible some of it's for the web guy, given, "Mn. Maybe I ought to see if yours is looking for another long-distance client." A little brighter for Owen, though, "And that's the spirit. Definitely a hazard, occupational or recreational, but I have faith in your dedication." He doesn't add that virtually no one's built like that otherwise, but the fleeting glance does; there's just enough of a half-smile to suggest it may be teasing, even if the appreciation's probably genuine. "Are you writing anything now?" he asks Edgar, looking back to him.

Edgar regards Vyv with lidded eyes. Do PDAs exasperate? It's all he can do to keep himself from giving Owen another kiss just to be a jerk, but he can behave himself. This once. He still keeps an arm around the dancer, though. There's a bunch of savages in this club, looking at Owen like a piece of meat. So Edgar basks in being with him, ha! "I can't wait til we get old and weird," he tells Owen. Looking to Vyv, he says, "Yeah, I'm working on a novel and I've got a project writing a graphic novel on the side."

Owen, Edgar, and Vyv stand near the bar. Edgar has an arm around Owen, and his forgotten drink glass has long since been claimed by the bartender.

Owen chuckles at Vyv and says, "I am nothing if not dedicated." Then he laughs at Edgar and says, "I think we're already a little weird. It's just the old part we're working on." He seems comfortable, standing and chatting with the pair as he leans up against the bar, one arm around Edgar. He's in his street clothes, having finished his set, and has a glass of seltzer water he's been sipping at while they talk. He does, after a bit, give Edgar a squeeze and says, "I'm going to go get my things and stop up at the office to talk to Daya for a minute before we go," which could turn into a little bit longer than a minute. "I'll be back." He then smiles and says "Good to see you, Vyv. We should get together again soon." He then withdraws, after giving a kiss to Edgar, to go prepare to head out.

There was a distinct bit of a hustle and bustle at the entrance to the Bone Yard, some sort of loud, brash, New York tones though after a few moments, Anthony Malone made his presence known.
He was dressed well, as he usually was, and while he wasn't necessarily TOTALLY out of place, but it didn't look like he entirely belonged either. One hand hung loosely in the pocket of his slacks and the other wraped around the shaft of a stout white cigarette that emitted a stream of smoke into the air. His pale green eyes surveyed the establishment, and he headed toward the bar where he was just so lucky to find his people - that is, Vyv and Edgar with the departing figure of Owen, "Hey boys!" he announced aloud and approached with the swagger normally found from the man.

"Is that better than young and weird?" Vyv asks, and a small gesture implies seconding Owen's remark on the matter. He does not have a drink. One might get the vague impression his life would be improved if this changed, but as yet he continues to allow himself to suffer. The writing answer is clearly interesting, though any comment's put off first by Owen's leavetaking, and the need for a, "Yes, good seeing you; that would be nice," and then by a familiar voice giving him a stellar excuse for turning around while that kiss gets exchanged. Though his brows go up high enough for a heartbeat that it might not even be a factor. "Good evening again, Anthony. Chat go well?"

Edgar reluctantly lets Owen slip away. "I'll be here, babe," he says, and he watches the dancer go wistfully. Yeah, he's got it bad for the guy. Brash New Yorker tones get his attention, though, and he smiles, waving over at Anthony. "Hey, hey, fancy seeing a nice man like you in a place like this."
To Vyv, he says, "It's better because it means more years together. Though that means fewer years left, so I might need to rethink that. Anyway, the important thing is we're weird together."

"Eddie-boy, you're fuckin' weird wit' everybody…" Anthony remarked with a grin and returned the wave briefly before completely saddling up to the bar, "Are you kiddin' me? A place like this? If I ever need a confidence boost I just go to a gay club, I'm like a gay kryptonite or somethin' " he chuckled, and ordered a long island iced tea.
"Was that ya' boy, Eddie?" he asked offhand, glancing over toward Vyv, "Does that make me yours fa' t'night?" he arched a brow

"Mm. So I've heard," Vyv replies to Edgar. "…but yes, I think that other bit might merit a rethink." Anthony's reasoning for showing up gets a soft breath of a laugh, and at the question, a brow arched right back. "That depends; are you suggesting I'd be understudying for Ed here?"

Edgar tells Anthony, "Yeah, but Owen and I have a special kind of weird no one else gets to partcipate in." He glances in the direction Owen left and adds, "Yeah, that's my guy. He brought the house down a little while ago. It's a pity you both missed it. He knows how to move." Anthony's reasoning for being here gets a laugh from him. To Vyv, he says, "You're too well-dressed to play the role of me. I can tell you that right now."

"Aw, c'mon, Vyv. Don' be ridiculous - you're…" and as he was about to mention, Edgar did it for him. With a grin, he nodded toward the man, gesturing toward Edgar, "What he said. You'se much to nicely dressed ta' be an understudy. You're clearly ya' own professor for a block of instruction" he smiled. His long island iced tea came and he sipped it - the strength was agreeable and he cleared his throat, looking toward the stage, "Pity. You should write 'em into one of ya' books"

"I /might/ just be popular with the costume department," Vyv says, though he fails to not look fairly pleased with the remarks. Someone compiling the Vyv-to-English dictionary might possibly define it as 'thank you'. He glances toward the stage, where someone who is Not Owen is about halfway through a performance and garnering a good deal of enthusiasm from the front few tables. "It is a pity; I'm sure he's quite good. Another time, maybe…" And now the time for handling that drink thing's been reached, apparently; he moves briefly to the bartender, ordering a Whiskey Sour.

"The worst thing a writer can do to any of youse is write you into his books," Ed says with a grin. The grin fades, though, and he glances after Owen again. "I should go check on him," he says. "We're going to head out." The normally affable writer looks a little on edge. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later, yeah?"

"I'll try not ta' be ofended if the captain of whateva' sci-fi future you're writin' about isn't my spittin' image then" Anthony replied with a smirk and nodded toward Edgar simply, raising his hand in a shooing wave, "Yeah, yeah, go on Eddie-boy, go get ya' hunkin' burnin' love" he teased and raised the long island to his lips, drinking in a hearty couple of gulps. "I'ma jus' stay here wit' Vyv and look ridiculously handsome"

"I don't know, I'd think it would depend how one was written," Vyv says, "and possibly how many people could identify the model. Might be something to be said for being captured for the ages, if it wasn't all one's very worst bits." He takes a sip of his drink as it's handed over, and immediately looks slightly happier with the world at large, so it must be all right. "Good night, Ed, I'm sure I'll run into you again soon. Meanwhile, yes, we'll do our part for humanity and stay here being gorgeous. It's a difficult duty, but someone's got to do it." He takes another sip, and another glance at the dancer, settling in as Edgar goes, and then looks back to Anthony. "So," he says, brow quirking again, "'if you ever need a confidence boost', mm?"

There was a brief moment of amusement that flashed across Anthony's pale eyes when Vyv brought up 'confidence boost' and he helplessly laughed with a hang of his head, shaking his softly, "Yeah, yeah, yeah…" he rambled, taking a drink from the tall glass again, "Let's jus' say that…" he pondered, pursing his lips around the edge of his straw in thought for the right words, "I'm not so much lacking in confidence, as I am utterly confused as to just what I'm going to do with the situation…" he nodded, affirming his own words, though glanced at Vyv sidelong, "She won't be staying on my couch tonight, though part of me both savors and worries about when the couch is in my own house…if *that* makes any sense…"

(…and they presumably continued to chat, but apparently humans need sleep.)

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