tampered | Two For Tea

This time, he's definitely on time. There are two people here he'll never keep waiting: Julia and Machi. It's... almost a family thing for him. Actually, there's no almost to it: that's exactly what it is. For those two, he's got such an abiding affection.

He's both surprised and not surprised to see Machi dressed as he is. He's the last one to say anything about that. And if he still had his own dress, he might be inclined to wear it sometime. Sometime after a couple stiff vodka drinks and a lot of explanation.

That thought can get tucked away for another time. Right now, he's so glad to see Machi.

"Hi, Machi. Seems like I'm keeping everyone waiting today." He shrugs, though, and nods. "Red's a good color for you. Want to go inside?"

"You think so? It is not too eye-catching? I like it, but, maybe it is too bright..." Machi frets and follows Gren into the teahouse. Somehow, it's not quite the same as the day he was 19. The world seems bigger, more filled with shadows, and it's not just that fall is approaching.

"Red is a classic color for blondes." He gives Machi an amused grin as they're shown to a table. It's different from the one they sat at last time, but those were entirely different circumstances. Taking a seat across from Machi, he tilts his head to one side, considering his friend. "Think Marilyn Monroe with that platinum hair and bright red lipstick, or... well, just about anyone. The color brings out the blue of your eyes."

He's seeing things in a pretty romantic light these days and has no reason to try to hide it. He's happy.

Someone cares for him.

Machi can't help but feel his spirit become a little uplifted when Gren says these things. His mood is infectious, tinges Machi's skin like the kiss of sunlight, warm but never penetrating.

He looks around curiously, pausing to touch things along the way, old habits. The curl of a carving, the grain of wood, the face of a statue, none of them miss the sight of his fingers before he sits down primly. "Tonight finds you in a nice mood, Gren," he comments.

Well, yeah: it's nice to be loved.

"I feel like a weight's been lifted, and I didn't even know I was carrying it." Honestly, that's how he sees it and he didn't recognize that until earlier today. But things that have bothered him for a long time seem less consequential and that's pretty liberating.

The girl serving them is very young; he takes the menu from her with a nod and hands one to Machi. "One of the only really nice things about Blue Crow, where I lived before I got here, was that there was an authentic Japanese teahouse. It was only open certain hours and you had to sit on a tatami mat on the floor, and you were totally at the whim of the management for the type of tea you'd get. But I used to go whenever I could. Usually by myself, because it was a little expensive for what you got and Blue Crow's definitely a working town. But I liked it. It brought a touch of elegance to that cold bleak city."

This menu, by contrast, is a hundred times more complete than any other teahouse menu he's ever seen, and he's been to a few. Mostly for the ceremony, the scents, the ikebana, the formality of it all. He likes them because they're beautiful, and he's always been a sucker for beautiful things.

"So how's today treating you?"

"Mostly like yesterday," says Machi after a little thought. "There's blood everywhere today. I don't like it."

It's a curse, it will go away, at least hopefully it will. Still, no one likes to be reminded of murder, and Machi's no different in that respect. He stares at the menu without really looking at it, having every intention of just ordering whatever Gren gets. It will be something sweet, he's sure, considering the man's spirits.

"Blue Crow? Is that in the US?"

The blood everywhere doesn't do anything for him either, and he's glad this curse passed him by. He sometimes wonders if these things can be evaded somehow, like dodging the arc of an oncoming softball or something. He's not sure.

Nobody is, really.

But at Machi's question he shakes his head. "No, Blue Crow is on Callisto. That's one of Jupiter's moons. I've never been to Earth."

Green tea, he thinks, looking down at the menu. They have a Japanese wild cherry-infused green tea with candied cherries and rose petals and that sounds really good to him. It should be sweet and tart and everything a pot of tea can possibly be.

"It's really part of the Federation of Outlying Planets. They call all the habitable moons planets."

"Oh, I remember now. Sometimes, I forgetting... you are from the future." Not as distant a future as Machi thinks, what with varying timelines, but that's never been a topic of discussion, perhaps fortunately.

There's quite a lot he doesn't know about Gren. And as long as Gren's talking about himself Machi won't be harassed about his personal state. "So in your time... everyone can afford to go into space? Or is it only rich people?"

That's an interesting question. To him, it's not the future: it just is. So to define it in Machi's terms where no one lives anywhere but Earth...

"I guess it depends how you define going into space. There are a lot of people who never leave their home planet. Mars was the first one colonized after Earth, but in my time, Venus is the most heavily populated. Earth is third. Some people live in space: off planets entirely on spaceships. Their passport will still show a nationality. Mine shows Martian, because that's where I was born. Remind me, and I'll show it to you sometime."

It's back there in his apartment because it's the one thing nobody ever leaves behind, no matter what. Not even if they're going off to die: it's their identity, their way of getting from place to place. His isn't even forged, stupidly, but it's why he never traveled. The ISSP knew he was on Callisto; that showed up as his planet of residence when he was featured on Big Shot. But Callisto's a big planet. It's easy to get lost in a crowd of 150,000,000.

"So to answer your question, it depends. It depends on where in space you want to go."

"That is amazing. For me... going in airplane is sort of a big deal. Pretty scary, the first time! But in USA, lots of people can afford to take plane trips a lot. I can't imagine being out in space, it seems scary. It's so big... even worse than a plane in the air, or a boat on the sea, you could feel like everything is crushing you." Machi fidgets with a tea cup in his hand, turning it around, feeling the pleasant, sort of rough grain on the pottery. "I feel that way, when I leave Borginia. Is a small country, not many big cities, just little towns. Many mountains, beautiful and peaceful. But... I cannot go back. My passport, I think she must be with the rest of my belongings, waiting for me to come out of detention. I am not sure what will happen with my citizenship, since I cannot go there any more..."

There's something about the vastness of space that's humbling. He'd lost that -- hadn't felt it in a long time -- until last night when Lestat took him flying. Then he got that sense of awe and wonder back.

What a gift.

"Think about it this way. Maybe you're not meant to go back. Only to keep going forward. New opportunities, new chances. New people." Oh, yeah, he used those same words to convince himself he didn't need Mars any more. He used them the whole time he was in prison and the whole time he was on Callisto but he knows the lure of home and how seductive it is.

"That isn't to say we can't still long for what's familiar. Nothing takes that yearning away."

"New people, like the other boys who throw things and call me names and make fun because I have accent? Oh, these are the new people I am going to meet, I am so very excited." Machi makes a sour face, and suddenly wishes he'd brought his sunglasses after all. He was trying to learn not to rely on them so much, but maybe it's no use. "I wonder how long I will stay here... at least, I have a job here, I am useful..."

Whether he knows it or not, he'll outgrow those types of people. They'll go away.

"Machi. Listen. Not everyone is nice and not everyone is good but you're smart, you know that already. There's not a whole lot you can do about the bullies but wait for them to go away or hire a bodyguard."

The waitress stops by; he orders his Japanese wild cherry green tea with a little look of you want to join me in it? to Machi. He's never liked to make assumptions.

They can talk more about Machi's feelings of uselessness once they're alone again.

Machi nods yes to the tea. He's actually not fond of sweet things, but he's not feeling like looking over the menu and making sense of it today, either. Gren has good taste, at least in general. He's pretty sure at least the tea won't turn out to be deadly.

"Hire a bodyguard? In the detention center? I have no money, I am cut off from what little money the record company leave for me. I still have to pay my lawyer. I have nothing, my career is a ruin, I am a criminal and a liar and my homeland that I faithfully represent no longer want me back. Sometimes, you make no sense whatsoever. Just wait, right, wait, wait! I want..."

Machi takes a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hand. "I... sorry. Ever since I come back from being a girl, everything piss me off."

It's almost hard not to laugh, but he manages to just smile instead. "Being pissy's a woman's prerogative, Machi. It's all pretty fresh for you still. I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't some lingering hormonal effects."

He can leave it at that.

"And I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget where you were out there. I didn't mean anything by it."

There's more than just disappointment about being bullied at work here. "Machi, what's really going on? What happened, besides what you told me about the other night? Did something go wrong somewhere? Something I don't know about?"

"I tell your boyfriend I can't stand his face. Why did you pick this man. He very dangerous. He says he can kill you with his look, and choose not to, like I am supposed to have more confidence for him to say that." Machi's sullen and definitely wishing for his sunglasses again. He crosses his arm across his chest, slouched down in the chair. "I know nothing I can say would make you turn from your happiness, and that is fine, I suppose. You are the big brother, after all. He says he can fall for you... I don't want him to. You will go with him. And I know that's okay, because I would. If I were in your position, I would. We don't even belong in the same world, your world with space ships, someday, someday we'll leave this world and forget each other..."

He stares ahead and sees nothing, crumpling his napkin in his fist. The sky blue of his eyes clouds, but rain doesn't fall. "I wear red, in a moment of confidence, but he... the one I like... he'll never see me. I am so full inside, but... this world gives me so many wonderful dreams and takes them away, every time I have a new one, I think, this time I'll wake. This time, I will be in the cell. I will have nothing but to do but conduct the symphony in the dark. I will have nothing to look forward to."

"Machi." His voice is sharp and stern now, like a slap to the face. He can ignore the idiocy about Lestat for now -- get to that later -- but the other business... that's his job. He has to step in on that one.

"Who is this person? The one you like? I'm going to have a talk with him."

And also, while he's at it: "And I'm sorry you don't like Lestat but he's not going to hurt me. I knew everything about him before he became my... boyfriend, and I'm not afraid of him. I'm very fond of him. But I'm not going to leave you behind to be with him. I'm not that shallow."

Sitting back, he folds his arms across his chest. "So you can just forget that little fantasy. If I tell you that you're like a brother to me I mean it. You have to let me help however I can. That's a contract I made with you... in my mind and in my heart. And that kind of contract is sacred."

Unsure of how to react, Machi startles and then just sort of stares at Gren for a long moment, his expression caught between startled, confused and defiant. "No. No way. He has no idea how I feel, and that is better. The last thing I want is making trouble for him."

His English tends to fall apart when he's on the more emotional side. He clenches his jaw shut to try and piece together another sentence, but he can't think of anything more to say about Lestat or this unspoken contract of brotherhood. He still doesn't quite understand or trust it.

Men, no matter how feminine they might be, don't sit around and wait for things. They have an inborn need to fix things, to set them straight for lack of a better term. But Machi, he reminds himself, isn't a man. He's just a boy and he has to learn his own way.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I won't talk to him, whoever he is, but you have to promise me one thing. Just one."

Leaning forward, he rests his head on his hand: this isn't the way he wanted things to go.

Machi squirms a little bit. Secretly, he wanted to tell Gren: to have Gren talk to him and solve all the problems. But he knows it won't be that easy, and in the long run would make things very hard for he and the object of his desire. Strangely, he's attempting maturity at this.

"What would you have me promise?"

Long fingers cover his face and he rubs his eyes: he's tired. Up until dawn and then awake again in time to meet Anita. Lestat might be a vampire but he's not. He can't afford to sleep the day away.

"All I'm asking is that if you need or want me to do something for you -- anything at all, any time -- just ask. I don't know. You might change your mind about me talking to whoever it is, or... you might want a chance to kick my ass for choosing someone dangerous" -- although that's certainly his type, not that Machi would know that -- "or play music together: anything. Promise if there's anything at all, you'll ask or tell me."

Sitting up a little straighter, he stretches his neck and back: he's tall and every now and then his back just aches because of it. "And you can even detest Lestat all you want. You're entitled to your opinion, and even if you don't like him I still value your opinion. I don't expect you to like all the same people I like."

This one would have been nice, though, and he almost wishes he'd heard the conversation Machi had with Lestat. But it's between the two of them and that's the end of the story. He's not going to invade anybody's privacy.

Machi is pleasantly surprised that he's not getting a lecture on things he should or shouldn't be doing with certain much-older crushes. Not that it's ever going to come to that. "I am not good with people, and Mr. de Lioncourt, he is the type of person who is very good. You know. Greasing wheels and everything? I feel like he is trying to play me like he plays his fiddle. No. You can't do that to a piano, is not the same kind of instrument." He actually smiles a little at that.

"I don't trust him. How long have you been seeing him, and he's saying things like it could be love? He is like a careless rock star. A careless rock star that kills people to live, and could kill my dear big brother." Machi quiets. He seems to feel a little better just being blunt in his opinion.

"I will leave it at that, okay? The truth is, I hate the success of you two. The one I like, he is Mr. Edgeworth. Do you know him at all?"

The truth is that Machi's jealous and that's... a little appropriate. Not jealous of him personally, but of the situation and his Mr. Edgeworth? He's heard his name.

"I don't know him. But I'd like to meet him. Not to talk about you; I respect your feelings too much. But just to know who he is. I don't know: you got to meet Lestat so this is only fair. Even if the two of you are just friends, I'd still like to know who you're spending time with."

He won't say another word about Lestat, because Machi wanted to leave it at that. But he will say this. "If you ever meet anyone who says they're in control of what happens with their heart, they're lying. Sometimes we meet people and we just... want and need and love them, and we don't get to dictate when that happens. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but knowing that something might not work out in the end rarely stops us. And ultimately, it's the experiences we have on the way that matter. As long as time keeps moving forward, there isn't really an end to that kind of thing."

Oh, good: the tea's here; he nods to the server, opens the lid and lets the scent of green tea mixed with roses and cherries waft up between them. It looks like a good blend and once it's steeped he'll pour it.

Machi's wrong about one thing, though: Lestat won't kill him.

He promised.

The tea smells pleasant, and Machi idly thinks a shampoo or soap would be good in that smell. Tea? He's not quite certain.

"Mr. Edgeworth... Miles..." Machi smiles a little bit saying his 'real' name, recalling the conversation they had about it on the day of his aged-up curse. "I meet him my second day in the City, briefly. He has this beautiful piano room. He lets me teach classes there, and I find myself at his place very often, since there is a door between our apartments. He has no demand or insistence of me, and he is a good musician. I wish..."

Machi clasps his hands on his lap and stares at his fingers.

"I wish it would go away. No control of the heart, right?"

"No control whatsoever." A little ruefully, he shakes his head and pours out two cups of tea into tiny dark cups. One thing he's always liked about the ceremony of a Japanese teahouse is the accoutrements: they're small and precious but they're that way for a reason. They keep the tea hotter by not diffusing it, and the material they're made with is designed for that purpose. The designs are intricate and ornate, but they don't distract from the whole experience.

One cautious sip later he frowns: he's not so sure this is the best tea he's ever had, but it's... doable.

Barely.

He might have to rethink this choice.

"I've heard you talking about him. He's taken pretty good care of you, hasn't he?" It's obvious from the hopeful little smile on Machi's face that he has it bad in that way only young teens can have it bad and he remembers just how painful it can be.

He's not that old.

"Yes. Somehow, little bit by little bit, he has found a care for me, and looks after me. He began to take it seriously after Klavier is poisoned, and I have nowhere to go, so I stay at his apartment while they investigate ours." Machi sighed a little, sipping his tea. He doesn't like it, but he's busy enough talking that he doesn't really mind. After all, Machi doesn't like sweet things.

Except maybe... "He has that sort of serious vibe. Like my friend Klavier, he is a prosecuting attorney in his world. Very strong sense of justice. It could have been easily him put me away for murder, eventually smuggling. But, like my friend, he is not unkind. And when he plays violin, his feelings are more clear to me. Though he hide it, the whole length of himself is in what he play. He is lonely, like me. He lost someone too. On the day I grew up, we had a very long talk about what it must mean to be strong. Since then, my heart is unbearably fond."

That's so sweet. He wishes for the hundredth time that he had the perfect words for Machi but the truth of the matter is that there are no perfect words. Machi's just going to have to live and learn.

"This tea is terrible. I'm not drinking it." He pushes it aside, waves the waitress back over, asks for plain black tea instead.

The whole tea debacle makes him laugh. "You know, Machi, sometimes friendship is the best foundation for anything that comes next. I'm not saying friendships always turn into more, but they're sure enjoyable along the way."

Machi hides his smile behind his hand. He thinks the tea is gross too, but he's not the type to complain about anything he's given. He is surprised that Gren just goes and orders more, maybe it's different on Callisto, because he can't imagine letting something he paid for go to waste like that. Curious.

"I think I am his friend, at least. I wonder if he would like to see Copellia with me." That makes him grin big. "I would like to see him in a tux!" he confesses.

"There's one way to find out. Ask him."

That's pretty much all there is to say about that: Machi can always ask Edgeworth to go as a friend.

"But do it with no expectations. Do it because you want to. Because it would be fun no matter what else happens."

"Of course I am not having the expectation. He does not know my feelings, I do not think he could possibly suspect him. He is... in oblivion. You know, not so good with others. Like me, but he cannot sense a feeling through music, even. He cannot sense a feeling most of the time."

Machi smooths his skirt out, thoughtful. "I am hoping someday, the feeling will just disappear. I try not to imagine success between us, because, no matter what the feeling is in Borginia - in the USA, and probably here in the City, us together would not be so good."

The new tea appears and the old pot is whisked away, just like magic; it already smells better and he sets it aside to steep.

"So what is the feeling in Borginia?" This isn't the first time Machi's alluded to things being different there, but he's not even from the same planet, let alone the same time. All he knows are the rules where he's lived, and... well... he can just say that 2071 is probably a lot more lax than Machi's time. Or not. Maybe it still all depends on location, location, location.

"If an older man wants to be with someone younger, no one is thinking twice of it. If it is someone who is rich and cultured like Mr. Edgeworth, that young person would be considered quite fortunate. My motivation might come to question, but not the propriety. After all, he may just want to regain some innocence of his life, or maybe he wants a lover who is more pure. Not worldly or selfish." Machi's a little more relaxed, leaning on his hand propped up on his elbow. He's never given it much thought. "All of this emphasis in the USA on childhood, on gentleness like a person is ruined if they grow up too fast. In Borginia, you should be an adult as soon as possible, so you can win the bread and help your family. A little different for me, since I have no family, but you get the idea. Idleness and playing, they don't have much place. Is better to be more serious, to grow up. Becoming married, or, at least involve, that is part of growing up too."

That's pretty much the answer he thought he'd hear, but he didn't want to make any faulty assumptions. "Different countries have different rules, different worlds have different rules. Mine says the age of majority is eighteen, so it gets ingrained in us that you're not supposed to engage in anything with anyone under eighteen." But he shrugs, pours two fresh cups of tea, takes a sip -- much better -- and leans forward again. "The laws are there for a reason, but I've always figured people do what they're going to do when they're ready to do it. I didn't wait until I was eighteen, I can tell you that much."

It's probably not very good advice but it is the truth. Machi will do whatever he does whenever he's ready, just like every young person who's come before him and every one to follow.

Human nature can't be shoved into a box so easily.

Machi likes this tea much better. He enjoys a more bitter drink, something concurrent to his sweet appearance, perhaps. Or maybe he made himself like it because of its disparity to others expectations.

"Mr. Edgeworth, though, his business is the law. I doubt he break them for me."

"I doubt he will. But hearts are funny things, so you never know."

Now he's sure he's not helping, but all he can do is pass along what he knows. "Whatever happens, it sounds like you have yourself a very good friend. And those are worth more than almost anything."

Love is beautiful. It's fun and exciting, but it can be painful and terrible also. He's sorry Machi doesn't like Lestat but ultimately that doesn't matter: he's still going to love who he loves and be friends with his friends. If the two things intersect so much the better but if they don't?

That's still all right.

Two For Tea

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