[Open Post] ..like the bird that you can't see..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is in a very good mood indeed. He feels settled, assured. He feels as he did, he thinks, back when he first found his feet at court -- he is someplace he belongs, he can be assured that people will treat him with respect, if not kindness or welcoming. He lets himself revel in it, a little, as it's been a long while since he felt anywhere near as nice as this.

The weather is good: sunny, crisp, the familiar feeling of autumn as winter is hovering close by. He goes to his own room and fetches his sword. He runs his usual drills, though with a kind of ease and almost carelessness he hasn't had since he was young. (Perhaps he is young enough, still. He can't be sure. He has already lived past the age his father was when he died, but that means almost nothing. His father died in battle and Lancelot is, now, no longer likely to ever see such a fate.)

Afterwards, he showers and decides he might as well find breakfast. So he's now heading toward one of the kitchens, looking cheerful for once.

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[timebethine]

There, he may find Laertes working on a thick stack of crepes. He's got whipped cream ready in the stand mixer, as well as a jar of Nutella out on the counter beside a bowl of freshly-washed strawberries. "Ah, Lancelot!" he says, delighted (pushing down the anxiety that all might not yet be well between them). "Wilt thou cut up strawberries for me?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles to see him and says easily, "Aye, I can try." He comes over to the counter. "What makest thou?"

[timebethine]

"Crepes," Laertes answers, gesturing at the pile as he spreads a thin layer of batter in his pan. "They're to be rolled around some other food--sweet or savory, but today, my taste is for sweetness." He grins. "How dost thou?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Very well," with a sincere smile. He finds a knife and sets to work on the strawberries, making his best judgment as to how fine to chop them. "And thee?"

[timebethine]

"Very well," says Laertes. "What griefs I had have eased a great deal, and in their absence, my joys have flourished. I find myself surrounded by dear friends and lovers, with work such as this that gives me purpose and delight. What man could be happier?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs a little, "That does sound well." After a moment he says, "I would thank thee for thy gift. It was very kind, and I was sure to make good use of it."

[timebethine]

"I could do no less," says Laertes. He looks away, gaze focused on the edges of the crepe. "Galahad says all is well between you, and that means I used thee ill. Thou didst deserve better from me, or from any friend. I'm sorry."

[summerdude]

Step One of going to the people Magnus likes instead of making them always come to him is to be inside without freaking out again. He's always been a resilient kind of guy, able to roll with the punches and recover from the fatal, felling blows, so spending nearly a month largely sequestered in the heart of the forest has been... indulgent, in a way. Magnus has decided not to get impatient with himself for it, because maybe finding a different path means letting yourself be not-okay for a while, instead of being okay enough all the time that you can leap into battle without screwing over your teammates by getting distracted.

Lancelot being the first person he sees upon slipping into the Mansion and trying not to let it overwhelm him, however, is nearly enough to send him back to his clearing. This super isn't the people Magnus is trying to be around. And he looks happy? Magnus knows, from the drips and dribbles of things Galahad has told him during his daily visits, that he's reached a sort of armistice with his father, so even though Magnus is fully committed to girl code, he's also not planning on antagonizing the guy unless he's provoked first.

"Hey, asshole," he says, with a congenial nod. That's not antagonizing, of course; it's statement of fact.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nods in return, with the sort of pleasantly blank expression he tends to adopt in exchanges like this. "Magnus. How are you?"

[summerdude]

"Absolutely fantastic," Magnus says. Blandly, because if Lancelot can be bland, Magnus can be blander. He crosses his arms. "You look less fatally wounded than the last time I saw you." Still bland, of course. He's kicking ass at this. He's like unflavored, stodgy oatmeal. He's eviscerating Lancelot with his blandness; Lancelot is being completely eviscerated.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, well-- that is thanks to you and your kindness." If it's the faintest bit sarcastic, who can blame him?

[summerdude]

Oooooh, does Magnus detect a hint of sarcasm????? He's so winning. He curtsies deeply -- no awkward attempts to turn it into a bow this time. Endlessly polite and blander than a nice dish of damp sawdust, he demurs, "It was nothing."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I do not doubt it," back to simply polite, no sarcasm, "You are gifted, and I am glad to be walking about as if nothing had happened."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan is in the kitchen making her first cup of tea of the day. Her hair is up, but not in its usual crown of braids: she's simply piled it on top of her head in a loose bun, affixed with a decorative pin. As usual, there's a book burning a hole in her ample pockets. This one is on the politics surrounding a conflict in French Indochina after her time; yet another war in the relentless progression of wars throughout the twentieth century.

She's not expecting to see Lancelot at this point in the morning, so his arrival is a pleasant surprise. She smiles at him, and finds the smile easy to call to her face.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He was likewise not expecting Susan, the surprise and delight shows. His face lights up to see her, in a bright, charming smile.

Lancelot gives her an overly formal bow, teasing, "Good morrow, my lady. How dost thou?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Good sir," says Susan, turning to face him more squarely. She's definitely leaning against the counter in a way that allows her dress to emphasize her figure. "I'm well, but be wary: I've just spotted a notorious dog-thief."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Troubling," he laughs, "I'll keep watch. No harm shall come to any creature, an I can help it."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I imagine you'll spirit all such creatures away to your quarters, where they can hide in safety," she nods.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, possibly." He sobers just a little, "Truly, though, how dost? Slept well?"

[sagramore]

By the time he runs into Sagramore it's much later, almost noon, and Sagramore is still half-asleep in spite of having had crepes for breakfast: he's on the prowl for coffee. He smiles when he sees Lancelot, his mouth quirking. "Did it go well?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot flushes immediately and says, "Aye. The advice I received was helpful."

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs. "I notice you didn't say my advice, but the advice. Good for you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles, "It was largely your advice. I should grant you credit."

[sagramore]

"I'm not sure you should." He gets out his coffee-making supplies.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Either way, we had a very nice time. I like her a great deal." His expression indicates that this may be an understatement.