14323/Just Another Day, Today

Just Another Day, Today
Date of Scene:	16 April 2022
Location:	Suite A5 Yaozu and Liansong, The Triskelion
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Liansong "Song" Qing, Yaozu Lin

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Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The weather of late had been a little bit odd. Not that Liangsong is very aware of that fact. Clear and cold is what it has been. Today it's been partly blue skies with fluffy white clouds. But on the horizon, black clouds amass, promising rain, and soon. Within the suite, it's nicely warm as Liansong prefers it. He's sitting on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee sitting to his right. He's got an open tablet upon his lap and it looks like he's reading reports, head bent down over it, feathers fluffed out in a way that indicatese he's comfortable.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
It's not an unusual thing for Yaozu to spend at least part of a day off by venturing off base. And that's exactly what he's been doing for a fair part of today. The cold temperature doesn't particularly bother him even though he's not wearing the layers of silk that make up the traditional robes he likes. For today, instead, he wears a pair of ash grey slacks and a long sleeved dark blue button-up shirt with a Mandarin style collar. His talons snick-click along the hallway as he makes his way back to the rooms that he shares with Liansong. He removes his black leather coat as he approaches the door of the rooms, draping it over his right forearm, then reaches out to push open the door before stepping into the rooms. A pair of small paper bags are carried in his right hand, and the paper crinkles a bit.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong, of course, hears the other owl long before he gets to the door. Not that it really registers more than peripherally. He's deep in whatever report, or paper, he's going over. The best that can be said is that he, at least, offers a vague sort of sound that may or may not be a greeting. It might just as easily have been a sound of disgruntlement, having come from Liansong.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Good afternoon, ah'Song," Yaozu offers in greeting. His ear tufts are lifted, and his feathers slightly fluffed in that comfortable manner. There is a moment that Yaozu takes to hang up his coat on the hook where it belongs. Then he steps over to the counter near the kitchen to place one of the paper bags there -- that one has the tea he prefers in it. The other paper bag is kept in hand, and there is a slight almost rattling sort of sound that comes from it. He carries it over to Liansong and stops near to him before offering it. "I picked up some of the roasted nuts from the Chinese market for you," he says, a smile parting his beak a little bit.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
And all the while, Liansong quite ignores him. He's a stark contrast to Yaozu. All. white. White feathers. A pair of white slacks. A white button up shirt. And he's still wearing his white lab coat. He probably forgot to take it off. Again. This is the third time this week. Yaozu's words to him don't really register at first. He makes a vague, non committal noise and doesn't even look up. His head keeps moving though, turning from one side to the other minutely as he reads line after line of the text on the tablet's screen.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Lightly, Yaozu gives the paper bag a little shake, to cause the nuts to rattle softly against one another. "ah'Song," he repeats, tilting his head a touch to one side. He's not trying to be annoying, exactly, but he is trying to get Liansong out of his work for even a brief moment. He notices the lab coat, and then he exhales a breath through his nares. "This is the third time this week that I have returned to find you still in your lab coat, ah'Song. Please, I will take it for you and hang it up," he offers, a gentle note to his voice. He does pay attention, even if there might be times when it seems he doesn't. He starts to move aside the bag of nuts, with the intent of putting the bag near to Liansong's coffee cup. "What would you like for dinner?" he asks.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong is pretty deep in whatever he's reading. It has to be medical related, because it's the tablet that he uses for All Things Medicine (tm). But it's proven that he's not so deep that the outside world can't intrude at all. This is shown in his feathers. They started out nice and fluffy, his ear tufts up and fluffed along with the rest, much like the crest of a cockatoo. As the bag is shaken, the rattle of the nuts brings the fluff to reduce a little, the tufts to lower a like amount. The repatition of his name not once, but twice, along with other words eventually has the feathers all slicking down and the tufts going flat. "Would you leave me alone, mate?" Liansong actually looks up from the tablet at Yaozu with the words. "I'm busy. If I wanted dinner, I'm perfectly capable of feedin' maself." He gives the other agent a long look and then his eyes, and head by necessity, drop back to the face of the tablet to resume reading its contents.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Everyone deserves to take a break from their work, and in Yaozu's eyes, that happens to include Liansong. While he doesn't pretend to understand any part of the work that Liansong does in the lab during his shifts, he's fairly certain that the fellow is porbably inclined to become occupied in work so much as to end up not taking his breaks. At the -- Yaozu isn't sure what it is: a request? chastisement? -- his feathers and his ear tufts flatten, adn his wings hug closer against his back. He quietly -- or at least as quietly as possible, given their hearing -- places the bag of nuts aside. Then he steps back before bowing respectfully, the braid of his hair slipping forward over one of his shoulders, and his gaze lowered. "Wo hen baoqian. Dangran. Ru ni suo yuan, ah'Song," he says quietly. 'My apologes. Of course. As you wish it to be.', in Mandarin. He straightens and turns, to make his way towards the kitchen in order to put away the tea that he'd purchased for himself.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
There's a difference. To Liansong, this isn't work. What he does isn't work. It's his passion and his life. He doesn't mind working late. He doesn't have to do so. He chooses to do so. Any time he brings work back to the suite it's because he's chosen to do so. Driven is the word. His mind already back into whatever he's doing, Liansong pays no mind at all to what Yaozu does after that. Chances are, if the other avian cooks? It will perk Liansong's interest. It usually does.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
At least Yaozu hadn't reverted to using Japanese. Yet he had switched to Mandarin, which isn't entirely strange in and of itself -- it's his native language, after all. Once within the kitchen, he takes a moment to give himself a shake, his feathers fluffing out then settling somewhat. Then he steps over to the cupboard then opens it and removes the tin he keeps his tea in. He refills it, then gets down a mug to prepare it for tea before filling the kettle and putting it on. He washes his hands and dries them, then unbuttons the wrist of his sleeves before neatly folding them up to his elbows. It gets them out of the way. He had offered dinner, and even though that offer had been declined, he should still eat something himself. Which usually means making more than just what he'll eat himself. He gets out a bowl and, rather than measure the ingredients, he simply pours in a particular amount of flour and adds in a bit of salt. He gets out a measuring cup and runs some water into it, then sets it aside near to the bowl. Adding a bit of water at a time, he mixes up a Chinese noodle dough.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
And if Liansong had registered the change in language on a conscious level, there may well have been words. When he thinks about it later, there might be yet. On that, Liansong is not any more forgiving than he is with anything else. In reality, he really is not an easy person to live with. While Yaozu starts to prepare dinner, Liansong remains deep in the project he's working on. He doesn't even reach for his coffee to have a sip of it.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
The probability that there will be words later is relatively significant, especially given Liansong's memory. It hadn't been a conscious decision on his part, to switch to Mandarin. It seldom is a conscious choice when he swaps languages. Once Yaozu finishes with making the dough for the noodles, he sets it aside for it to rest, and then he washes his hands. He focuses, at least in these moments, on his cooking -- vegetables are prepared and put into the wok along with some oil, and some strips of chicken. He adds in some seasonings that are traditional to Chinese and Japanese cooking. While things there simmer and cook, his attention goes back to the noodles and he starts the process of cutting off pieces of the dough then pulling it into noodles. It would seem that he's decided to make a noodle stirfry for dinner.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
On the contrary. Most of the times Yaozu does a language switch it's under his conscious control. It might be a habit, but it's a habit he chooses to fall into every time he gets his feelings hurt. Liansong had taken him to task for this behavior on more than one occasion in the past. Today.. well. It hadn't consciously registered. But it might resurface later. Maybe. It's only when the other avian is on the edge of consciousness that he has no choice in the language his brain chooses to use. Liansong remains silent but for his breathing and heart beating and the occasional tap of talon tip on screen as he gently moves the screen's text so he can read the next bit. The scents aren't strong enoughto pull him from his absorbtion just yet.