Where our worlds collide [SEAN]

[Nini D'Anjou]

For once, the problem wasn't too much work - three hours had gone past without having to lift a finger, and now even the accounting that had built up over the last week was finished; there was nothing to do but watch the sunlight stream in through the wall-length window that faced out onto the street, two stories below, Marchal standing at the end of a long white table against the window, his huge, round eyes closed as his chest rose and sank with the ebb and tide of his breath. Catherine stood from behind her desk at the far end of the whitewashed room, vanishing back into a store room to grab a small dead mouse, dry and stiff, from inside a glass jar.

Marchal was awake before Catherine had even got out of the room - just as much as the burgundy-scarved woman knew her way around the studio without even a moment's hesitation, Marchal knew when he was about to get fed - puffing up his chest and flapping his wings, he showed off as Catherine walked along the edge of the wall, her left hand dangling the mouse from the tail while her right followed the undulating red vine pattern. With every step, Marchal seemed to inflate, until by the time his beak was within range of the unfortunate mouse, he almost filled the room. Even the jingle-jangle of the doorbell could not distract him from snaffling the rodent.

Nicole emerged from behind one of the pedestals in the centre of the room, where a torso mannequin stood in a black doublet, covered in embroidered dragons and bamboo, the rear side portraying the same dragon curled around the world - not especially inventive, but the client had been pleased enough to make producing a second for display a worthwhile endeavour. In the open doorway, a well-aged gentleman stood, and Nini caught the scent of money waiting to leave his pockets and invited herself over, shooting a smile from Nicole while Catherine rushed back into the back room, leaving Marchal to spin his head and shoot a wide-eyed glare at the interloper. "Bonjour," said Nicole, gesturing him in and closing the door, the jingle-jangle of the bell distracting Marchal for a moment before his head spun back to the slightly grey man. "Bienvenue. What can I do for you?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Josh’s birthday was coming up.

His partner’s birthday was not a milestone this year, as fifty-four held no particular cultural connotations. It wasn’t a multiple of ten, or even a multiple of five. It held no significance to reaching Social Security qualifications or even senior discounts at any establishment, of which the telepath had any knowledge. It had no significance in Josh’s religion, as Judaism counted by multiples of seven (or ten as one might view it) for a lifetime, thirteen for the Coming of Age, and multiples of eighteen for luck. Josh could long since run for office, vote, drink, and drive (although he had yet to avail himself of this last privilege, not since crashing Sean’s car nearly four years ago).

Fifty-four was just another birthday.

However, Josh appreciated birthdays far more than Sean did, insofar as enjoying his own as opposed to those belonging to other people.

The telepath, for his own part, liked to indulge his partner. He liked to plan parties, and he liked to find new ways to lavish attention or special presents upon the attorney.

Sean also liked to support local businesses.

Those converging reasons brought him to the studio today. Of course, as Josh retained a discomfort with gestalt pairs as a result of his assault three-and-a-half years ago, the telepath saw no reason to divulge more details than necessary around the artist that he had chosen to visit.

“Bonjour,” Sean replied, offering the woman a smile as he stepped inside. “I wanted to know if you could do a custom order for a birthday.”

[Nini D'Anjou]

Nini almost missed the words when she realised who they came out from - it was the voice, of all things, that reminded her, that made her recall just who the customer was. Doctor Sean Neville. He had been a big influence in her life - probably that of everyone who attended Hammel. Somehow, he always managed to find the time for a student, no matter what the time of the year nor how close the exams were, yet there he was. A few more years on him, definitely, but still the same charming gentleman he had always been. Merde, he probably heard that. And that! I hope he can't speak French.

Doing her best to shut up her mind, Nicole's face broke into an open smile and resisting the urge to give him a hug. "Me reconnaissez-vous, Docteur? Nini D'Anjou! Un moment," she said, as Christine rushed out from the back room, followed by the fat-looking bird, his claws tak-tak-takking on the floor of the studio. Oh, I'm sure the landlord will love that if it scratches, remarked Nini, before offering the good Doctor a seat that looked out onto the street below. Christine gathered up a notepad and a fountain pen before joining her sister-self, while Nicole folded her hands together on the table. "Now, Docteur Neville," she began, her accent almost causing the last syllable of his surname to disappear altogether, "What was eet you were looking for?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Say what one would about Sean in many other respects; he was memorable. In some ways, this was inevitable. Between his position at Hammel, Hammel’s position in the world of meta-humans, and then his height and physical appearance, many of those who encountered him had some reason to remember him, depending on the underlying reasons for the encounter. Former Hammel students, more often than most, had reasons to remember the psychiatrist long-after graduation. More than that were those who had spent considerable time with him over the years.

Sean didn’t call attention to his presence, even though he remembered Nini as surely as she remembered him. Similarly, he didn’t comment on the thought that he had overheard; it was the least he could do as a visitor in her space.

However, he smiled at her and took the offered chair, glancing briefly at the view before returning his full attention to her. “I recognize you too, Nini, and you don’t have to use my title. You’ve long outgrown it.” She was an adult now, and she was no longer a student; she was at liberty to use his first name if she so desired.

As for the specifics of what he wanted to order, Sean’s smile became rueful. “I want something for his office, something unique. I’m sure that isn’t as helpful as it could be, and you probably hear that from clients all of the time.”

Unfortunately, neither he nor Josh had artistic backgrounds.

[Nini D'Anjou]

"I don't think anyone who's been to Hammel will ever out-grow calling you 'Docteur,' but I could settle for calling you Monsieur Neville?" At least his request wasn't too specific - working to a thin brief was nothing like as fun as being allowed to go wild with creativity. Still, a little instruction would have been helpful. Reaching down at the table, Nicole opened the drawer and retrieved a small folder marked 'ODPS'. Within were photographs of a few sculptures, some inverted relief sculptures, one or two mannequins with custom clothes on purely for ornamental purposes. "Sil vous plais, take a look through those, Monsieur," said Nicole, handing over the folder before walking back over to the pedestals which ran down the spine of the room.

"We've some more recent items here - was there anything specific you were after, size, sculpture, clothing, or perhaps I could redecorate 'is office?" As Catherine headed over, following the tick-tack-tick of Marchal's talons upon the ground before the flap of his wings echoed down the room and he settled down upon the table, hopping over towards Sean with a sceptical eye, as if he was some sort of over-large mouse. "Please, don't mind Marchal," said Catherine, suddenly rather regretting not having her cane handy. "If 'e nibbles you, 'e is just trying to make 'imself feel big. Give 'im a mouse and 'e will be putty in your 'ands."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“It’s your choice, but if you want to call me ‘Sean’, then that would be fine.” She was long out of Hammel, an adult running a business of her own. While the psychiatrist owed her a continuing duty of confidentiality, such that he couldn’t tell others what she had confided in him years ago, they otherwise didn’t have a professional, authoritative relationship, and there existed no reason that she had to call him by his title. If she felt uncomfortable deviating from that pattern, that was her choice, but Sean didn’t want her to feel as though he would take offense.

He smiled and took the proffered folder, flipping through the pages to examine the examples of her work. She was talented, and she showed great variety in designs. The telepath knew that he had come to the right place.

“That’s the question,” he mused aloud. Josh was far too particular to want someone to redecorate his office at work, and his trauma from years ago meant that Sean wanted to limit those who came uninvited into his partner’s personal space.

An idea occurred to him, about something that the attorney had mentioned before, and the holiday (in addition to the younger man’s birthday) was approaching. “If I showed you a centerpiece idea – it’s technically also tableware – do you think you might be able to make it?”

[Nini D'Anjou]

Now that was a rare thing - a smile. Perhaps her memory was going a bit, but she couldn't really recall him ever smiling during their conversations; it wasn't that he was stern, or even humourless, just serious and dedicated to his work. Nini had never come to expect anything less from him, and the thought of him singing and dancing - in an inexplicable tutu - made her chuckle harmlessly before Dr.Neville quashed her hopes of a free-roaming project. Disguising her sigh before recalling - yet again - that Dr.Neville knew exactly what she meant, she conceded, "Certainement."

He handed over his phone, presenting two images of a circular strip of...glass, maybe? It twirled and branched off from the largest central circle, bowls hanging from it like a vine which bore crockery for fruit. Interesting, certainly. A few moments of thought grew into a flurry of ideas, which translated into a few concrete, practical plans. "I could try to produce somesing similar, maybe in polished silver or steel, wis brass accents? Is there any particular script you want, or a specific quote? I assume it is somesing to do with Judaism? Manuscrit hébreu is somesing of a giveaway."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean confirmed her assumption with a nod. “My partner is Jewish.” Josh’s name was a giveaway, even before one met the attorney. Few gentiles were named Joshua and fewer still had a surname like Bernstein. Then, when one spent any extended period of time with the younger man, his religion and cultural heritage found their way into conversation. Whether it was because they had to make weekend plans around Temple services, or because Josh had an opinion about Anti-Semitism, or because it was too close to Christmas and the other man wanted to make a point about holidays.

The telepath, by contrast, was not Jewish. There weren’t many Jewish people whose names started with Sean Patrick, certainly not those born into the faith. By personal beliefs, he was an atheist, although he went with the flow, and he was happy to participate in home rituals and celebrations with his partner, as long as he was not expected to pray. Josh had been interested in one of these more unique Seder plates for a while.

“It’s called a Seder plate. You use it during Passover,” he explained to Nini. “That starts a few days after his birthday, so it would make a nice combination gift.

He then nodded again, the smile spreading across his lips, agreeing with what she described. He could picture it in his mind, and he thought that Josh would approve as well. “That sounds lovely.” Then, because he didn’t flaunt his lifestyle to students but she was entitled to know, he said, “I think the polished silver would go nicely with it, and I can pay whatever it costs.” He had the disposable income, and this was special. Silver had cultural significance, so he wanted to offer that to his partner as well.

"In terms of inscriptions, I can get you the Hebrew."

[Nini D'Anjou]

"Excellent." Catherine walked over with a card, underlining the email address. "If you send me l'hebreu, I could send over a photograph of a preliminary design, or perhaps arrange another meeting. Don't worry about the cost, I will endeavour to make sure it is as small as possible - I expect it might be around three hundred, but I will do all I can to reduce sat figure." An awkward silence hung in the air as Nini found herself realising that she had nothing further to say, but for Dr.Neville to retreat so quickly would have been painful.

"I-if you please, Docteur, je voudrais un moment, just to talk." Another pause before Catherine took over from Nini, resisting the urge to step forward and wrap her arms around Sean's shoulders. Probably not a good idea. "Desole,this seems inappropriate, mais I would like a chance to relive my misspent youth - perhaps...no, desole. Was a silly idea."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean took the card from her, glancing down at the email address as was habit. He would keep it, of course, and so there was no need to commit to memory, but so much of his life involved the quick assimilation of information in order to make assessments that he did so unconsciously. “I’ll be sure to do that as soon as I get home,” the telepath promised, before he slipped the business card into his pocket. Josh already had a seder plate that Sean could use to copy the Hebrew, and he could take a picture of it with a camera to send to her.

The psychiatrist had not yet managed to rise from his chair when she asked him to wait. Instead, he shifted, resuming a more comfortable position. He smiled at her and said, “I’d be happy to stay and chat.” Sean had no obligations for the rest of the afternoon, as his partner was otherwise occupied and he had no lunch plans. Moreover, he was always happy to spend time with former students, once they had reached adulthood and made independent lives for themselves.

“How have you been?” She looked well, the apartment was nicely decorated, and her website was far more competent than anything that Sean could put together on his own, so he assumed well enough. Still, he wanted to hear from her.