2020-04-29 - Hyarassment

Spring has finally properly sprung, a time for growth and renewal! And clearly this includes skin and general sense of well-being. Therefore, now that the Easter rush is well-over at the patisserie: spa day! The Alderbrook Resort is just over an hour away, and despite a token argument from Vyv that the weather is finally starting to get just right for his car, he's allowed Hyacinth's Tesla to be their chariot today.

It really is pretty nice out, however, lovely (if a little cool) for a day at the shore... which, arguably, they could have within a five minute walk at most of their front doors, but that would not involve all these amenities and highly trained staff along with the view. There's already been some time in the sauna, and the prescribed ten minute 'recovery time', relaxing in their very fluffy robes in a pleasant room with tea and light snacks, before they're ushered on into a room much heavier on the white and marble and general... spa-ishness, and settled in comfortably for the sake of various excitingly relaxing and rejuvenating treatments to come. So far? Quite a nice day, really.

Spring has sprung and so have 3 new little grey hairs. Yeah those suckers got pulled in defiance by her royal pain-in-the-assery Hyacinth Addington; Queen of 'No'. It's almost time for Vyv's car, and yet? no. Not yet. Off to the beach go they 1 hour from people asking them 'but one more thing' and out of range from people popping by.

Now on the way over she didn't fail to notice Vyv on his phone reminding, that this is their day off. Stop working. Now? Now there's a fluffy white robe and little slip on puffy slippers that match and new-new sparkle nails. Super important. But now time to rejoin and relax. "Fluffy bathrobe is agreeable to your week. Pulls some of the scorn from your cheekbones. Loving it. How's everything at the shop? Nothing on actual fire?"

Miraculously, Vyv remains free of grey hairs! Okay, miracles and still being slightly shy of thirty. Check again in a few years. ...when you probably still won't see any. But he might. Probably precisely as briefly as Hyacinth sees hers. While he draws the line well before false nails or coats of enamel, sparkly or otherwise, he definitely draws it after manicures (and, for that matter, pedicures) in general, so his hands are also in freshly renewed condition, the elegant tuxedo setting off her fabulous glittery gown.

Well, metaphorically speaking. Literally speaking, plush white robes and slippers for everyone, and they certainly are agreeable. Still, "I'm not sure if the robe or the shave should be getting the credit, but either way. Thank you, darling. The nails are scintillating." There are handy stands beside the tables for the robes to be hung on once shed, which appears to be required in the near future. Just swimsuits or underwear for the body exfoliation scrub. "Things are all right at the shop, or at least they were last I saw it and Rebecca's not sent me any dire updates. David's not allowed to touch the stove again until June and everyone's just about caught up on sleep post-Easter. Though if nothing is on fire, no thanks to," the tiniest hint of a pause, "the city. You heard what happened downtown yesterday, yes?"

Hyacinth could not be happier as she soaks up compliments like a ficus soaks in sunlight. Sparkly, expensive ficus. And then? Her shoulders drop and her head tilts way back, ponytail swinging in lament, "Ooooh Vyvy please tell me it's something I don't like that's now gone as some weird early birthday pressie?" The look suggests the words 'theatre' or 'downtown' should not follow. Pleeeease don't ruin my happy fun day* they beseech. OH THE BESEECHING.

Ruefully she asks "What happened? Also tell Rebecca I said allo next you speak at her."

"Well, none of the buildings were hurt. None of the ones you hate, sadly, but none of the ones you don't, either, so swings and roundabouts." Vyv allows himself to be ushered to one of the spots, while a second technician ushers Hyacinth to the one beside it. "And no one was badly injured, either, as far as I know. Some of the asphalt's a bit worse for wear, though, and the smell in the area's probably going to be awful 'til at least Sunday, or the next high winds. But there was a sewer issue, a car accident, a near bus crash, and a power line downed, all within, mn, ten, maybe fifteen minutes? All the noise interrupted me right in the middle of assembling a croquembouche. We believe thefts were to blame." A glance her way as he settles in, and he adds a bit lower, "Don't ask." Or maybe wait until they're back in the car, anyway.

There's an interruption for introductions and instructions as far as making themselves comfortable and ready for the next steps, a light sheet draped over each of them for modesty and draft-exclusion before things begin. Once that's handled and a foot has been requisitioned as the starting point for applying the scrub, Vyv turns his head just enough that the sidelong glance to Hyacinth is clearly a choice and not a complete necessity. "I'll tell her. But speaking of passing messages along..." there's the faint hint of a smirk, a glint of mischief in the look her way, "That bridge troll at the ice cream shop would apparently like to know whether my minion," just a touch of emphasis on that word in the otherwise light and casual tone, "enjoyed the birthday cake he sent. Of course I told him I'd never asked, but I'd be sure to pass the inquiry on." And now he has.

Hyacinth is grinding her teeth. The city is why they can't have nice things. OH the laundry list of problems, and then? Green eyes blink out of angry reverie and turn to him as she's shuttled on, "Someone stole your croquembouche?! Heathens. She settles in and mulls over the don't ask. Oh, dammit but now she wants to This may be the greatest bout of restraint she's displayed this year short of not slapping that one waitress for calling her 'hun'.

"What minion? June?" Her eyes blink blink and her head tilts, "He made June a cake?" Clearly she's not a minion. She's the CEO of the city's most prominent export. She blinks again, "How many cakes for women is he making?"

Vyv arches a brow, the tone a bit gentler as he advises, "Relax, darling, at that rate you'll chip your enamel. And not the sparkly sort. They had most of it handled by sundown, really; it's just the smell and the paving left now. And if the latter's not fixed tout de suite, I'm sure you know who to call. The croquembouche, I'm pleased to tell you, survived unharmed." There's a hesitation, but whatever he might have said is perhaps filed as 'not in front of the outsiders', tucked away for later. When the don't leaves the ask alone for a while.

The chef's lips purse slightly and his gaze flicks upward toward the ceiling to consider it a moment before returning to Hyacinth. "Just the one, as far as I know," he says, a little more carefully, with a touch of apology in it -- or perhaps something closer to sympathy. It's certainly not as though he's the one responsible for this travesty. "Really, one would think the man were trying to get under our skin." One does think this, in fact. "Either that, or he's simply woefully uninformed on this as on so many, many, quite evidently many topics, and requires some sort of elucidation." A small pause. "Later. When we're not relaxing."

The reality sinks in. and almost just in time her teeth are pressing together the warning about her enamel comes. It stops; abruptly. What's the use of having a bestie if one negates their council. Especially when Vyv is constantly improving himself as to not lose that status?? (Okay, maybe he has self interest, but she's always going to assume her interests are involved. Naturally.) There is a strained sound, not audible at first and definitely familiar to Vyv as, even here, the glimmer pulls around and unable to make a fist or slap someone there is a fantastic flash of lightening that arcs between all the flecks in her manicure at the same time Vyv's phone in his robe pocket on vibrate goes VVVVVVFT! The timing could not be more oddly convenient. Let's hope she didn't fry his phone by proxy.

There is pause and a deep deep breath as she stills herself and the illusion of peace resumes. In the prep area there's the unmistakable yip of a very startled attendant. Hya says dryly, "Oh calm down, Regina, it's just the fuzzy towels.." Her eyes roll up. Still angry, but calmer she's actively refusing to let the man get under her skin (auto fail, Hya. Sorry.) She draws a deep breath and murmurs in effort to regain her personal control, "Someone has a citation for their awnings in their future."

Hey, what are friends for? ...well, sometimes, apparently, aiming. But wise counsel is definitely also on the list, and Vyv's is virtually always accurate, of course. Just ask him. There is absolutely not the slightest chance he didn't expect Hyacinth to take the characterization amiss, but the magnitude... that's harder to predict. 'Tesla coil' is not the exact reaction he would've put his bet on, not here. If he might have taken any satisfaction in the confirmation of their general alliance in this matter, it's delayed or at least very well-hidden by the flicker of startlement from the combination of her electricity and that sound, and then a further hint of worry as he recognizes the source of the latter and immediately gets mental images of his poor innocent phone losing all its magic smoke.

The twist and lunge of an arm toward his robe to get the handset are immediate and almost automatic, and handily what they also are is distracting. The attendants busily focused on exfoliating their legs at present look up at the sounds and change in light, but it's his movement that wins their attention.

"Oh please don't-- sir, please try not to move so much?" his attendant (Aimee, said her badge and her introduction) asks, catching the pot of scrub she's working from before it tips over.

"Mm? Ah, yes," Vyv replies absently as he settles back with the phone reclaimed, more of his attention definitely going to checking that it still seems intact. Nothing visually wrong. He gives it a little stroke to wake it up, replying to Hyacinth with a faint smirk and just a bit less distraction, "Someone absolutely should; have you seen them?" What he sees is that the phone wakes just as swiftly as usual and explains its noisemaking with the indicator for a text -- and with another tap, the text itself.

He was asked to be still, and he is, mostly. A tiny shift of his hand that surely just happens to make the angle worse should Hyacinth have a mind to get nosy. The very slightest part of his lips as though he might have been interrupted just about to speak, near-instantly gone. The overall expression does a decent enough job of 'mild, noncommittal interest', except that someone really paying attention might notice the way his gaze alone shifts slowly over the screen: more vertically than horizontally, and the focus is sharp, at odds with the rest of the expression.

At least Hya didn't zap Gina. who is now staring at her and finally Hya, grounded by Vyv's subtle don'ts looks to her and waves her hand, "I'm fine. Scrubby good. It's just...static." which is as good explaination as any and eagerly accepted. She does look to Vyv and his phone. Phones are sacred. She glances over and the screen tilts away. Likely glare. She leeeeans slightly. Vyv's phone conveniently leeeeans away. She scowls. He is ignoring the faint scowl?!

Instead of getting angry eyebrow number two joins eyebrow number one. Finally she declares, "Vyvy, I'm right here." Yes. And? Taking a deep breath she casts the offhanded observation, "If I'm not texting you can it be so terribly interesting? Is it your gram? Oh! I need to write her back." They're writing now!?? If she weren't staunchly on Team Vyvyan now would be the time to be very afraid if you own a pastry shoppe. Sighing she blinks at him again as if somehow expecting this news to be shared. Privacy means little when you've shed tears into the other's bon-bons un-euphemistically.

...yup. That phone is definitely evading all eyes that aren't Vyv's. Low-key little movements, but the effectiveness of them is enough to spot. Like he doesn't lean over and peer at Hyacinth's phone all the time himself! Hmph. And he is, indeed, ignoring the faint scowl. He... might actually not have noticed the faint scowl? It's hard to be sure with him sometimes. Sometimes he's very good at Actively Not Noticing things he doesn't want to, after all. But he might genuinely be distracted by the phone. There are a few more buzzes from it, too, along with a couple very quick, short replies.

The declaration works, though, inasmuch as working is judged by drawing his attention back away from the phone. He glances sideways from it to her with a vague sense of 'oh', down toward the esthetician doing her work with a slightly stronger sense of 'oh', and back to Hyacinth with a blink as she mentions playing pen-pal with his paternal parent's progenitor. The gentlemanly thing to do, of course, would be to put the phone aside and apologise for neglecting his companion. He touches the screen, putting it to sleep, as he turns his attention more properly to her.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of maintaining the occasional friend who isn't you, here and there," he replies, which in no way qualifies as an apology but at least comes in a distinctly fond tone. "You've been corresponding with Grandmama? Whatever about?" Is this something he genuinely wants to know? Yes. Is he angling to make it an effective distraction? ...also yes. Talking about his grandmother right now could theoretically solve all his sudden problems at once!

Oh THIS IS INTERESTING! Hya's green eyes quint and study her bestie with laser precision as the phone scoot-scoot-scoots away from her and narrow just a titch before the interesting her topic come back. While she abandons her investigation she doesn't let her curiosity abate. "Don't think I'm not going to ask. Yes, I've been corresponding with your grandmum. You're welcome." She sighs and eases back into her seat and lets her manicure circle, toes idly wiggling as her stems get a pediscrub.

"I find her a delight, but she has the good taste to like me soooo I figure how bad can she possibly be." There's a pause and before Vyv's audacity can be gawked at she spares Vyvyan a look, "I had to see for myself. Really we ought to trade, but, alas. She was grousing to me about people wasting time and assets so I thought to give her a consult on things to suggest to make her contractors include she she's able to get what she wants. Since she's practically family." There's the wry grin. The insistence is going nowhere soon, surely, but Hya seems in no hurry to plot against him. "I miiiight have thrown a few details in there giving you credit for prestigious influences and persons you've catered to." There's a faint curl of a smile there in glossed grin.

There's a lull in the storm before the thundering question hammers home. "Who's texting you and why aren't you sharing?" Dammit like a hyena on the hunt.

"Well, she likes me too, which is definitely better than the alternative but no guarantee of a pleasant and less-than-intrusive conversation," as also true of certain other people he may know, Hyacinth. No wonder they get along. It was clearly that or sabers at dawn. Vyv tilts his head back and focuses firmly on the ceiling for a few moments, with a slight hint of determination that fits oddly with the discussion. "I'm not particularly enamoured of the whole baroque thing, but she always has had rather good taste. As long as one takes the aesthetic into consideration." And it really isn't his. She saw some of the faces he made at fussy gilt portions of the decor when Hazel wasn't looking. But if she's going to do it, she does at least do it well. She'd probably make the same faces at his apartment, except without bothering to do it when he wasn't looking.

"She does seem to particularly approve of you." Not a surprise, but there's a hint of ruefulness in the compliment. A small shift in position, trying to get more comfortable. "I think I'd probably rather not trade, and in any case, she's already trying to make you family. But ta, I appreciate you reminding her to appreciate me." He's just relaxing a little when she brings that question back, and the sigh manages to remain about 97% internal, allowing him to manage a decent 'offhand' for the slightly inaccurate and almost certainly unsatisfying claim, "I already told you: a friend. Asking how the spa day is going; it's really not among the portion of my epistles to be immortalized for generations to come." ...technically true. "What's Grandmama got contractors involved in now?"

Hyacinth wistfully replies, "No. No you are not." Small amusements for her as she considers Vyv's streamlined and spartan Feng Shui balancing act that is his domain. Always. Her fingers flick with acknowledgement. "She really is quite excited for you, you know..." When there's again the dismissive dodge her eyelashes narrow marginally scrutinizing him and does she believe all of that? Well the explanation is enough though something doesn't sit right. Considering Vyv's dignity may be at risk she draws no more alert onto her inquisition. As much as she wants to know Vyv is her people and this is public forum.

You win today, Purple Pie Man.

When Vyv further inquires about what his grandmum's contractors are up to now Hya's eyes go alight and goes into the drama of what her people thinking they are going to do with the carriage house and how they are failing to take the aesthetic of the garden wall into account. At all. travesty really. Mercifully this explanation takes twelve minutes which stops at the all important questions: does she want her toes to match or go with. Hrmmm.

There's finally a pause and a sly grin moves to Vyv, "Well if you have any that are I want to know. I am on teh Historic Preservation Society for a reason."

It's not spartan. It's curated! Though to be fair, so's his grandmother's. Just differently. Vyv smiles slightly at the assertion of Hazel's excitement, and essays not to notice that narrow-eyed scrutiny. There's no way he doesn't appreciate the consideration for his dignity, though... and a touch more relaxation as she seems willing to move on.

If he's the Purple Pie Man, does that make her Sour Grapes? No good can come of this.

That light in his friend's eyes brightens him a touch as well, and he listens with proper attentiveness and appropriate (at least them-appropriate) commentary, relaxing further under the scrub. By the time she's winding up, they've already been turned over for the other side to get dealt with, and Vyv looks fully comfortable with his universe again.

"When the time comes to put together my memoirs and collected texts, you'll be the first to know," he assures. "Shame if they weren't properly preserved for posterity."

Hya's not going to argue adjectives while getting polished like a gemstone. Mmhmm. Thankfully the gal is not being odd about her truncated limb and wins points for offering useful suggestion. Is she owning? She's preening a little bit.

"Just forward them to me and I'll put my archivist on it. " smooth, Hya. Smooth.

"When the time comes," Vyv repeats in simultaneous agreement and demurral, which is frankly a neat trick. He's resting his head on his arms as Aimee works the exfoliant over his back, his face turned toward Hyacinth but his eyes closed. It's like a sort of warm-up for the later massage. "You probably already have a fair whack of them, anyway. Fairly sure you get the majority of my most appropriately epigrammatical endeavours. I rely on you to communicate them to generations hence." One arm's shifted itself free to underline that with a suitably arrogant and negligent little wave of that hand as he speaks, but his eyes only reopen now, as the deadpan expression shifts to a small smile.

"So you have your very own archivist now? They're not doing a very good job of documenting you; I haven't seen them once."

Hyacinth sighs resting her head back getting scrubbied. "I need Edison back to be honest. Great help is fleeting. But, yes. We do have one turns out. Hey, if you have time later want to help me rebuild an office? I need a new one I'm not in love with anything that's there and maybe a change. Change would be kind of nice." She pauses and glances to Vyv and up again, "Even for we who are right in our opinions the first time around."

"He could at least have found you a decent replacement," Vyv says, Officially Disapproving, and slides the free arm back into head-support mode. The office question gets a lift of his brows. "That depends what you mean by 'rebuild'. Does this involve saws and power drills and the like? Or opinions on what goes away and what replaces it? Because in the latter case, yes, absolutely. In the former, I'm happy to admire your construction acumen." Though she may be able to talk him into attempting more helpful help if she tries.

"Mn. Even for those of us who were right the first time," he agrees, and after a moment, a touch thoughtful, "Old opinions don't always match current options, in any case."