Seung Haneul (readyornot) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-09-14 20:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, haneul seung, remy duchamp |
WHO: Han and Remy
WHAT: Business deals and maybe a little bonding?
WHEN: Lunch time, Wed. August 29th (LOL JFC)
WHERE: Remy's room.
WARNINGS: Language? I don't know, it's been so long!
STATUS: COMPLETE THANK YOU JEEBUS.
Although Remy had spent his week largely getting high and descending dangerously down the path to alcoholism, it had been a work week. Sitting in his closet drinking endless attempts at whatever German alcohol witchcraft Haneul had put him up to wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but it beat running around at night spray painting political messages. He, at least, was a professional. Being drunk wasn't really the bad part, but his almost constant need to pee was. Had he been in a single, Remy would have long abandoned plumbing during his experiments and opted instead for the ever-convenient chamber pot. It would also be useful for the inevitable vomiting which followed four straight hours of doing nothing but drinking his own (transmuted) blood and liquids of varying amounts alcohol and honey. On Wednesday Remy realized that maybe Han was interested in how this little scheme was going and also that he could steal food from the cafeteria and keep it for up to eight hours in his room without fear of botulism. The two goals thus aligned, he quickly wolfed down what seemed to be a normal person amount of food, messily snuck about seven sandwiches into his rucksack, and initiated a brofist with Han which would ideally allow him to pass on a note that said to meet in 5G "for tasting." And then he waited. If Remy hadn't approached Han about this week's 'assignment', Han would have approached him sooner rather than later. The Bärenfang was a priority, and Han was already stressing out enough about Saturday's festivities without having to worry about whether Remy was going to make good or not. Fortunately, there was that exchange at lunch that first bemused Han then drew a little half-smirk to his lips as he felt the press of paper between his fingers. Note read and message received, Han quickly finished the rest of his lunch before making vague excuses and taking his leave. Minutes later - with a brief detour to flush the note - Han arrived at Remy's room and drummed his knuckles on the door. Remy was already halfway through one sandwich which was sickeningly loaded with turkey when Haneul knocked, and he opened the door wiping his hands on a nearby surface. "I might have anemia," he said as Han walked in, knowing full well that no one in IVI cared except maybe Ted. "I've been feeling... a little faint. In case I die, or something like that, I thought you might want to know how your project is coming." Remy made sure to close the door after Han, waving an arm to indicate that Han could seat himself on either of the beds or Omar's desk (if he dared) while Remy hopped back up to sit on his desk. One of the drawers was already open, and he took out three small shot glasses. Two were those that Han had given him, with one still half-full, while the third was something Remy had nicked one of his first pub nights. Remy took a delicate sip of the remaining liquid, then filled the empty glasses with water and transmuted them before handing one to Haneul. "I suppose I'm better at sweet things rather than just strong things," he mused, voice low as usual. "A reflection of my nature, wouldn't you say?" Han's brows rose at Remy's declaration without any kind of preamble, but whatever concern that he might have had when he followed Remy inside was purely professional. "Should have grabbed a hamburger then instead of-" he peered at what he could only assume was food in Remy's hand. "Whatever that is." Han made himself at home, settling down on the other desk - because really, who knew what had gone on in those beds? "Anyway, you can't die until you give me my stuff." It wasn't an order or a demand. Not exactly. "Good to know there's progress, though." He watched Remy set up his wares with mild curiosity. Whatever flippant remarks Remy might make, he was actually serious about his work and Han appreciated that. It didn't stop Han from snorting at what clearly had to be a joke. "Oh yeah. You're delicate and sweet as cotton candy." Remy pulled a face of clear disgust at the idea of a hamburger. "Do you know where ground meat comes from? No, I won't spoil it for you. I wouldn't trust the ground meat in this place, anyway." He looked gloomily at the ceiling to indicate IVI as a whole. "They probably mix pork with it to make it cheaper, and then where would I be? Accidentally unclean, all for some cheap Americans. But turkey has just as much protein. Or iron, whatever it is." He shrugged. Judging by his perpetually underfed appearance, this idea of anemia was more a vanity than concern. "I have an artist's soul, actually," he said with a completely unhidden smirk. "Truly, all this crime pains me. It's against my nature. Oh, well. Bottoms up, as the English say." He raised his shot glass and then took it with Haneul. The result was pretty successful, and might even pass an industry standard. Han gave Remy a bland look. "Dead cows," came the blunt answer. He didn't know what Remy's deal was with beef or why it ruffled his 'delicate' sensibilities, nor did he really care. Of course, he personally didn't eat much meat in the first place, so he had no real reason to complain about the quality - or lack thereof - of IVI's meat. "It's iron. And you'd have better luck getting it from eggs or spinach if meat isn't your thing. Turkey only really works if you're eating the organs." Han might not be a cook, but he knew his food, especially when it came to his own health. Just a side benefit of being so active. There was no stopping the short laugh at Remy's protest. "Artist? Con artist maybe." But there was no heat in the words as he took the offered shot glass. "Ganbae." He tossed back the liquid - and made a soft sound in his throat at the perfection of it. "Daebak..." It was drawn out, an appreciative sigh at the lingering taste of honey on his tongue. Aksel was going to love it. "Thousands of dead cows," Remy corrected, though it was clear from his tone that he was about as genuinely interested in the subject as Han, that being almost not at all. He shot Han a skeptical look at the bit about turkey organs, then regarded his sandwich with a similar expression and seemed to accept it and move on. "Eggs. Everything is always back to eggs." Remy was more impressed by the nutritional fact than disgusted that he would have to eat more eggs, but his voice was ambiguous. He had no such audible reaction to the alcohol, having tasted things similar to it for the past few days, but he couldn't help leaning back a little and eyeing Haneul. "I went to an art school, I'll have you know," he said, "and, by my artist soul, that was like a lover's sigh. That good? I'll have to start on aphrodisiacs next." Whether it was one dead cow or thousands, Han wasn't too concerned with the slaughter of bovine. Nor Remy's apparent disdain for eggs. Right now, Han was all about the drink, and the drink was divine. Lips turning up in a small, slow smile, Han rolled a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. "A lover's sigh? If you want to call it that." It had really been that good, but he wasn't going to be stroking Remy's ego if he could help it. "Did you study such things in art school? The sigh of lovers, not aphrodisiacs," he clarified, though he could guess Remy did both. "Should that be this one's street name? Or is it good enough for brand label?" The idea of Haneul regularly drinking something called Lover's Sigh was more than enough reason for Remy to suggest it; if all the good cocktail names involving "screw" hadn't already been taken, he would probably have invented them for similar reasons. "I went for photography, so the short answer is no. But also yes." He raised an eyebrow and looked pleased with himself, though he often did so the change was possibly unnoticeable. "How to imply sound in a still image was my main study. In various ways. Why, do you need any tips? Earn some lover's sighs of your own?" Remy refilled his shot glass with water, but this time transmuted it to his preferred wine. Han contemplated the question for a moment. "It's definitely good enough for brand name," Han admitted finally. "But the brand name is too unique. It'll raise too many questions." So Lover's Sigh it was. He passed his glass back to Remy for a refill, a little surprised that Remy actually revealed something about himself that wasn't all bluster and smarm. Though, of course, there was still plenty of that. "Lovers don't really interest me." It was said with nothing but blunt honesty, just a simple fact like 'the sky is blue.' Han was more interested in learning more about Remy since he was being so forthcoming. "Do you still take pictures or have you given it up?" Remy couldn't help but smirk hugely as Han seriously took the bait and decided to make their alcohol's codename "Lover's Sigh." "More questions than illegal alcohol? I don't think they're too worried about what we call it," he said, but it was argument for argument's sake. The more dramatic the name the better. He took Han's glass and performed another transmutation, hissing a little as one of his fingers burned, but it seemed to go perfectly once more and he offered it back. He nearly choked on his own sip of wine, though, at the comment on Han's love life. "Really? What does that mean? Not a romantic?" Even Remy wasn't strictly hit it and quit it, though the way Haneul said it made him feel like that wasn't quite the proper interpretation. "I still take them. But staying in the same place is less interesting. I suppose I'm doing more portraits now." Something about the phrase 'given it up' made Remy's stomach lurch, and for a moment he wondered, crazily, if Han knew about his brother. The cessation of his arts school career and his brother's suicide were linked in his mind, but he knew, after a moment, that it was impossible for anyone in IVI to be aware of it. He finished the wine. "It's not about what it's called exactly. The brand is specific to one person," Han elaborated with a pointed look. "And I don't want him catching shit for this when he had nothing to do with it." That wasn't exactly the kind of gift he wanted to give Aksel. Besides, he looked out for his friends like that. You had Han's loyalty until you proved yourself unworthy of it. Taking the shot with a nod of thanks, Han drank it down. It really was so good and Han flicked his tongue along his bottom lip to catch the last traces of it. "Romantic?" He shrugged, rolling the shot glass between his hands. "I guess not, but that's...not what I meant." He could have left it at that. He knew he wasn't what most people would consider 'normal', but really, Remy was hardly someone to judge anyone else's normal. "I'm just not interested in anyone like that." It was something he'd long accepted about himself - Eun Mi had probably been a fluke - but still he waited for Remy's commentary. He was a bit surprised to hear Remy still took pictures, but he nodded. "That's good at least. If you cared enough to go to school for it, it's probably good for keeping you sane around here." He smirked, looking around the black-painted room then back at Remy. "Well, kind of sane." "I should have guessed this was a present. But I've been working so hard, I didn't think it through. " Remy waved a hand. However, coupled with Haneul's still frankly puzzling comment on romance did not quite let him carry his heckling as far as he may have wanted, and figuring out what Haneul meant was more important than making fun of him for feelings anyway. Remy leaned forward, elbows on his knees for support. "Not interested?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "As in, you are a heartless eunuch?" Maybe that was a little harsh, but Remy felt he needed this whole thing spelled out, and the harsher the language the clearer. "It was more a way of passing time, but I enjoy doing it anyway." He took Haneul's jib with a ready smirk. "You don't enjoy the black?" Remy's skills at deduction weren't a real concern to Han so long as he provided the goods. Which Remy was proving to be extremely good at. That alone was worth putting up with him. And maybe it wasn't just 'putting up with him' as Han had found himself almost enjoying the Frenchman's company on one or two occasions. Or maybe it was all the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol, Han concluded after that comment. He shot Remy a narrow-eyed look. "As in everything works fine, but sex doesn't interest me." That was about as blunt as a brick and Han wondered with some trepidation what Remy would make of that. It was a sobering - ha - thought to realize that it was the first time Han had admitted such a thing to anyone. Not even the one person he'd been most intimate with had known. Better to think about other things. Like Remy's photographs and abysmal decoration. "Does it really matter if I enjoy it? It...suits you." It was probably the nicest way Han could put it. "You show anyone your pictures or do you just take them and put them in a box or something?" Remy didn't bother to disguise his fascination as Han (unbeknownst to Remy) came out for the first time. "Apologies for the rudeness, but, you know, sometimes it leads to clear answers. Such as this one." He shook his head, then propped it on a hand to look at Haneul some more. "I find that frankly unbelievable. But I can't imagine why you would make it up, so you can't be lying. Unless you just really do not want to have sex with Vols. But we are all strangely good looking so that can't be it. Well. Perhaps you'll find your prince or princess charming, one day. Don't give up hope." That line of thought over, he sat back up and raised his empty glass in a faux-toast. Although his tone was always a little facetious, there was sincerity in Remy's murmuring; maybe he was a tomcat, but he believed that everyone deserved love. Except, maybe, himself. But that was an issue for another time. "Black suits everyone," he said, grinning nonetheless. "A little of both. The latter, mostly. You learn quickly in art that not many people are interested in your actual work. You start showing them and their eyes glaze over, that sort of thing." He raised an eyebrow. "But if you really want to, I can bring them out." What was this, a date? Whatever. He had so many drunk lunch dates it wasn't out of character. Han shrugged off the apology. Rudeness in some degree or another was something he'd come to expect from almost everyone at IVI, and he'd found himself picking up some bad habits himself since being there. Han was, however, surprised by Remy's restraint in mocking. So much so that he blurted out, "I did. Once. Find my princess. But..." But that was over and this was not the place or the person to discuss such things with. Suddenly self-conscious, Han inclined his head slightly, accepting the toast and the unspoken regards that came with it. Paint and photographs were safer by far, and Han smirked at Remy's color assessment. He couldn't really argue that. However, he shook his head in regards to people and art. "People who don't appreciate art are missing something in them. It's a gift, being able to show people what you see...how you see things." It was something Han had learned since coming to IVI. His one frustration with his power was that he couldn't show anyone what he saw when he looked at them. It was why he'd taken art, but he had no talent there as it turned out. Nothing beyond smearing colors on paper. So yes, he'd like to see Remy's photographs, and he said as much. Although Han may have thought Remy was being forthcoming, he was really doing what he always did––saying perhaps a lot, but a lot which meant nothing or next to it. There was plenty of personal information one could give out without truly giving anything of oneself away, but what Han said was actually something personal. Without realizing it, Remy leaned forward slightly to hear the confession, was almost hungry for it, this truly private thing which had been revealed to him. Maybe Han told it to everyone, but the manner in which he said it.. it was something to savor. "Princesses are more common than you'd expect," he said without any trace of mocking, voice low. Inwardly, he curled around this information like a dragon its nest of gold. "Maybe. But I think.. most people see the same thing. Or maybe that's too cynical. But then most people do not become artists." Remy raised an eyebrow at the request, sliding off the desk to rummage in his closet for the real sorts of photographs and not just his softcore. He turned back with a sheaf of prints in a box which didn't seem to be in any real order, and handed them to Han. After a moment's hesitation he moved to sit beside Han on the desk, figuring that some sort of explanation was probably needed. "This was in Moscow, my grandfather's city. Two years ago, maybe." The photos themselves were a mix of polaroids, film, and prints of digital photos, featuring what would at first seem like many strangers but after a few photos become clearly an extended family and eight great hounds. "I thought of staying there, actually. Then I would never have been brought here." Maybe for some, Han wanted to protest. But he found it hard to believe it was so easy or so common to find someone you cherished that much. He wasn't about to admit it, though, not when he was afraid he'd said far too much as it was already. "Most people don't have the ability to do art, but I think more people appreciate it than don't and can see the need of it," Han said, grateful to have Remy's photos to focus on instead. "If not, would art have survived since man first drew on cave walls?" It was a question the art teacher had posed to them a couple of weeks ago and still it stuck with Han. It surprised Han when Remy joined him on Omar's desk, but he just scooted over without comment as they started going through the photos. "Maybe you should have stayed," Han murmured absently, as he thumbed through a short stack of photos. "You say most people see the same thing, but this?" He gestured to the box. "I might have only seen Moscow, yeah, but this shows me your family. It's more than just a city to you. You got that on film and that's art." Whether or not Remy actually believed that finding love was easy was not something even he was sure of. It seemed very easy for other people, at least. He was just as glad for the subject change, in truth, as Haneul was, and for Remy talking about art and photography was effortless. "Do we need art, or do we need the vanity of art?" He eyed Haneul with the hint of a smirk. "Isn't it very vain? To think that what you see or think is important enough to share. But I don't disagree. Whether art itself or what we get from it... perhaps people are just always desperate to be reassured that what they think or see is real." Remy lingered over one of the pictures which had his brother Sol, though he wasn't in focus and was off to the side; the star was one of his grandfather's borzois. Still. "It's just a city, also. Maybe I should go there for Christmas. It'd be easier to disappear than Paris." "We need art," Han said without hesitation, eyes gone back to the photos so he missed that smirk. "Maybe a little vanity too, but I think most artists, the real ones, create not for vanity but because something makes them have to whether they share it or not." He'd picked that up from art class as well, just watching some of his classmates. "Everywhere is just a city if it wasn't for the people and the memories." Like Busan. Busan was just a city now for Han. There was nothing there for him any more. It wasn't home, it was just the place he'd come from. The realization made his stomach drop, and it took a moment for him to find his voice again. "You should do it. Go to Moscow. If you can get away from here and stay away, do it." His gaze slid over more photographs and stuck on the one Remy couldn't seem to put down. "Who's that?" The dog was front and center, but Han got the feeling that wasn't what held Remy's focus. Han's answer made Remy go quiet for a moment, the smirk dwindling to a gentle curve which was more sincere smile than anything. "Compulsion, you mean. I agree. An artist is compelled. Real art can't stem from indifference." Not that anyone was an authority on what made art art, but Remy tended to stray from those areas of discussion; as far as he was concerned, Haneul had gotten it completely right. And it was a bit of a surprise. Remy felt more than noticed the pause in Haneul's speech and was still wondering at what exactly had caused it––and what his reaction should be––when Haneul asked about his brother. Inwardly, he went very still, and the feeling of momentary but complete paralysis showed in his reply which was perhaps a hair too delayed, too short. "My brother." "Yes, compulsion." It was exactly the word Han had been trying to think of. Interesting that he and Remy had understood each other so well on a topic that one wouldn't expect them to see eye to eye on let alone discuss in the first place. But Remy, Han was finding, was more tolerable than he'd initially thought. Han was pulled from his musings by Remy's short answer and it took him a moment to work through the implications. Either there was a rift there, or Remy's brother was...Either way, it wasn't any of Han's business and he merely nodded to let Remy know he understood and wasn't going to press for more. Deciding this was a good time to curb their unexpectedly deep conversation, Han handed back the photos and stood. "You've got real talent. Thanks for getting in touch about the booze. I'll be willing to pay full price since it's kind of a rush job." For his part, Remy appreciated that Haneul wasn't just some gangster business contact. Although he technically already had Omar as his thug friend, his room mate wasn't really someone Remy found himself connecting with on any level; Haneul, at least, seemed quite able to take his often obnoxious jokes. And his unconscious hints, apparently. Remy was a little disturbed by how relieved he felt when Haneul didn't press further, like he'd just gotten away with something. "Talent?" Remy smirked as if this was a great joke, but inwardly he was a little touched and definitely felt like preening. Even in his bid at art school he hadn't gotten much notice. "It's a learning experience, but feel free to give me all your money," he said, also standing to add a little decorum to the exit. "Tell me how the princess takes it." Little did Remy know that was exactly what Haneul called Aksel. Han shrugged, a smirk coming to his lips. "I'm not an expert. What do I know?" But Han had meant it. Remy had talent, in a myriad of ways, but it wasn't Han's job to hold his hand and propel him towards his potential. It wouldn't mean anything unless Remy sought it on his own. Not that Han really cared what Remy did one way or the other, so long as he came through. "You'll get what it's worth," he said, matter-of-fact as he moved towards the door. The lunch hour was quickly ending and Han needed to prepare himself for his afternoon counseling session. Joy. "I'll pay you when I get a bottle. Unless it's ready now." His hand twitched on the door knob as he heard his nickname for Aksel come out of Remy's mouth. But he said nothing except, "Aksel takes it anyway he can get it." And it was a shame that Han hadn't yet quite learned the nuances of innuendo in English. "No one is an expert. That's what makes it art." Also not strictly true, probably, but Remy felt that the essence of the sentence was what mattered, and that part he could feel was right. "Give me another day to work up to it. Or a few hours. I'll drop by." The specifics weren't all that important; he knew Haneul wouldn't cheat him, not when both of them would get into shit for the exchange. As for Haneul's last sentence, Remy just grinned and raised his eyebrows up, up, up. "Oh, I bet," he murmured, pleased at this piece of homosexual gossip. Han might have argued the point about artistic expertise, but he really didn't have the time or interest at the moment. "Take your time," he said with a nod. There was a deadline, but he didn't need Remy rushing the product and making mistakes. "Just so long as I have it by Friday." The risks and the rewards for the both of them were balanced enough that Han felt secure in their deal; Remy was good for it. He wondered at that odd grin, though, but Han decided it was probably best not to ask. Instead, he held his fist out for a pound and opened the door. "Later, man." Musing about how unexpectedly strange that meeting had been but pleased with its outcome, Han left without a backwards glance. |