Participants:
| Scene Title | As A Comfort |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | There are some things they can take as comfort, even if otherwise things may be difficult. |
| Date | May 27, 2011 |
Endgame Safehouse, Ruins of Cliffside Apartments
So much of their time is spent trying to be inconspicuous, trying to keep track of what's going on around their building, trying to stay safe…. Elisabeth can barely remember anymore what it means to be 'normal.' She often finds herself right now at a loss as to what to do with her time. She usually cooks when it gets like this — and true to form, she's at least attempting that. The camp stoves are both running and there is a pot of a red sauce simmering on one of them. The other has a bit pot of water almost ready to boil. Spaghetti feeds a lot of people and it's cheap. Normally she'd be singing or have the music turned up while she does this, but it doesn't seem to be the case at the moment — not until one notices the earbuds in her ears. She is trusting that Norton Trask has the watch and that she has nothing in this world to worry about that he won't warn of in plenty of time.
Graeme's made his way to the safehouse. There was warning with a faint amount of cursing, and then apology, when Graeme found out rather the surprising way that the negator was on watch. But he's made his way to the kitchen area, now, skateboard propped up in the corner before he does anything else. It's a far more inconspicuous one than the usual, simply black, with black wheels, painted black on the underneath rather than the one with a rather neon decal. And smaller than the longer one as well, but still works just as well for covering the several miles from where he parked to the actual safehouse without being followed. Then he walks over to Liz, leaning against the wall off to one side, clearly in her peripheral vision as to attempt not to startle her. There's a paper grocery bag clasped in his hands, and a bit of a grin on his face, probably because he's brought yet more food over. "Hey there."
He does startle her a bit as she turns, if only because he didn't stop in the doorway. The rest of the residents of the place know to stay in that doorway until she's seen them because any closer and there are occasional things like… well, you know, guns that suddenly appear out of nowhere. This time, though, it's just a simple jump, her hand flying up to yank the earbuds out. "Jesus Christ, where'd you come from?" Elisabeth demands rhetorically. "Hi." She turns off the iPod at her waist. "Sorry …" She studies him and narrows her blue eyes. "If you came with still more bad news, can it wait? It's the first time I've been hungry in days," as opposed to struggling to find her appetite, "and I'd like to enjoy the meal."
"Actually, I came with some bread from the farmer's market, aaaand fresh fruit, and a bottle of cider," Graeme says, tone quietly apologetic, then holding the bag out for her after taking another long step over. "No bad news this time." Well, none that can't wait, and none that'll be mentioned until later. And none of it is terribly bad news in comparison to other news as of late. "It smells good," he adds.
Elisabeth glances back to the camp stoves, making sure the one is off and the other is way low. She won't leave them running if she leaves the room, but since he seems to be here to drop off more food, it won't be a problem. "Thanks," she says with a bit of a smile. "It … would have been better with sausage, but this'll work." Canned tomatoes, a few dried herbs from a jar. It'll do. Not gourmet by any stretch. "Nana used to put ground sausage and beef into it, but… it's too expensive."
There's a nod. "Still smells good," comes the retort, and there's another one of those mental notes to himself, to figure out if he can get some of those blue ice things enough that buying meat of some sort to add to occasional meals at the safehouse would become doable. Graeme does know better than to point this out to Liz, though, before perching on one of the upended wire spools that functions as occasionally a table, occasionally a seat. Just like he doesn't point out that he spends the most of the money that at one point would have been going to rent on various things for the safehouse's residents. They've had that discussion once, which is more than enough times.
"'s there enough for me to have a bowl if I stick around?" It's another reason that Graeme makes sure to bring food whenever he comes, really, because that way if he happens to eat while he's there, it's not draining on what supplies that they have. "Careful with the bag, too. There are some cups for the cider, and the bottle, and all. It was at the farmer's market, and it looked good."
"There's plenty," Elisabeth says. "I made a triple batch. Between you and Felix, it's a necessity," she admits on a laugh. She walks toward the spools and takes the bag from him, setting it back over on the counter. "So what's up?" she asks. Because it's not exactly like he comes by just to hang out. Not really.
"Mainly, I was at the farmer's market, figured I'd get stuff for you guys and bring it over. I mean, I know I brought stuff over on Wednesday and all, but." Graeme grins. Really, the supply run is the predominant reason for his visit. "The not so good news can wait until after food." He's sticking to that point, now. "Though I don't know, it might be good news. Ms. Blite decided that she was going to have some sort of change of heart, but Doctor Brennan's handling it more than anything else."
Elisabeth nods slightly. "Good," she says, seemingly relieved. She comes back to join him, sitting atop another of the spools and letting her feet dangle. "I realize that he's…. going to fight no matter what. The Dome made him grow up very fast. Hell, this town makes kids do that right now. But… I'll feel better having him out of her reach. Especially considering who she's working with." The last is said in a tone of trepidation. As if Elisabeth doesn't really know how to react to all that has been found out lately.
Graeme nods. "Pretty much. I'm going to get in touch with Brennan and just keep up to date on that," he says. "But I never liked Ms. Blite to begin with, and certainly not whatever association with Devon she was angling for. And I do trust Doctor Brennan." There's a shrug and Graeme falls silent for a moment. "I met with Ben Ryans, last week. Monday morning. I managed to tell him about Keira, though it … took a few tries." This is something Graeme's been keeping pretty quiet, as he still tries to make sense of it, and it's offered up in quiet tones, another uncertainty in Graeme's life.
Elisabeth leans back on her hands and listens to him quietly. "Ryans is a good guy," she tells him. "Did you, uhm…. sort out whether you're related?" she asks.
"It's possible. Even likely, when looking at the circumstances," Graeme says. "But I never did get a chance to go and get the DNA test run. Probably sometime in the next few weeks, I will, though." There's another pause, as Graeme sorts out his thoughts. "Kept meaning to, but other things've been more important, rather than something that can wait for whenever I have free time." Still, it's obvious that even from the one meeting, Graeme has a fair amount of respect for his maybe-uncle.
A brow quirks up. "You're….. going to have DNA run to compare to …. what? Ben Ryans?" Elisabeth snorts softly. "I think you should rethink that idea. Fast. If you have his DNA, then you know where he is, and sure as God made little green apples, if that hits the computers, it's going to get flagged by someone. Either the DoEA or the Institute, most likely."
Graeme laughs. "No, no. But Keira left me what to run a DNA test comparatively to her, before she ran," he corrects, with an almost amused smile. "That, at least, should be safe. Or safe enough, overall."
Elisabeth frowns slightly and then says, "Don't bio samples degrade?" she wonders. "It's up to you. Do what you need to, Graeme. Keira, so far as I know, isn't wanted for anything. It …. it should be safe enough." She pauses and shakes her head. "But who the hell am I to tell you that right now?" She forces a small smile.
There's a shrug, and Graeme moves to perch on the edge of Liz's seat, leaning his head against her shoulder, lightly. "I've got a couple of months more to decide, before it'd be entirely impossible," he says, words quiet now that he's right next to her. "Honestly, I still haven't entirely made said decision."
She nods and then rests her head atop his lightly, taking the physical contact as a comfort. Elisabeth is silent for a long few moments and she asks softly, "You doing okay?" As if somehow maybe he shouldn't be or something. Or perhaps wondering where they stand at this point given all the things that have gone on.
It's a question Graeme occasionally asks himself, but the answer, at least at the moment, is positive, though it takes a bit of time before he's certain of that, before he answers. There's a very faint smile on his face when her head rests on his. "Yeah, I am." There's some quiet amount of surety behind the statement, as steady as his presence is.
It's the certainty behind it that assures her he's being sincere. Elisabeth smiles faintly. "Good," she says softly without moving away from him. She seems to take comfort from the fact that they're just sitting here together without it being anything. It occurs to her suddenly that… it's almost like sitting with Felix or even Norton. It's simple. She doesn't feel tied in knots over her emotions — in actuality, Graeme's one of the people who has a tendency to calm the turmoil of hers. "I don't really know what to do with myself," she finally says as if confiding a secret. "I've never not had a job." The admission is difficult. She feels… useless.
"Yeah, I bet," Graeme says, acknowledgment. There's comfort for him in just sitting there with her, as well, and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, a gentle squeeze. "I did, for a little after I got fired from teaching in New Mexico, and even that …" He doesn't have any suggestions to offer on what she should be doing with herself to offer, though, so he just sits there, once again quiet. "I'm hoping this substitute teaching assignment lasts through the semester. But I don't know. The kids deserve at least that much, but I don't have an answer when they ask if I'm going to be their teacher for the whole year. And I can't give an answer I don't have."
She grins a little and then nudges him. "C'mon. You can help finish getting dinner ready. People will show up eventually," Elisabeth tells him easily, shoving herself upright off the spool.