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| Scene Title | Cause He's Not Dead Yet! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A wake is held in honor of those who fell saving the world at Old Lucy's. Though many people wish Danko was dead or try to make him just that when he shows up at the wake. Cause he can dance and he can sing. |
| Date | January 24, 2010 |
Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the black and cream risque wallpapered walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar.
Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the back room and owner's office and a stairwell that leads the residence above the floor above the bar.
The bar has a sign out front that says "Closed for private gathering." It's Sunday afternoon — maybe not ideal, but hey, Irish wakes are all about celebrating right? And Old Lucy's has any number of reasons for being the right place. Following a Mass at St. Paul's, Elisabeth Harrison didn't bother to change out of the black dress and heels that she wore to the service, she merely came straight to Lucy's and spent the hour between the end of Mass and the start time of the wake itself sitting at the end of the bar with a drink. Well…. several of them by this point. The music is playing, the volume at a lower level than normal on a fully packed night, and there are people now. Elisabeth watched the ones who are here arrive, watched the girls make sure everyone had drinks.
Dressed in a dark navy Chanel suit, Peyton makes her way toward the front of the bar, eyes downcast. She doesn't know very many people who knew Cardinal — only a select few, and she feels out of place. Somehow Liz is sitting by herself, so she comes to the other woman and bumps her shoulder lightly in commiserating camaraderie. "Hey," she says, offering an uncertain smile. Maybe Liz is by herself because she told anyone who neared her to get away, for all she knows. "Nice turn out. He was loved. The mass was beautiful."
"Father Wilder is an old family friend," Liz says quietly. "He was nice enough to say the mass for all of them." She smiles faintly, looking around. "Mack was right. He'd have preferred this part." Turning her chair to look up at Peyton, the blonde sips from the scotch in her glass and says, "I didn't do it for the turnout. I did it … for me. Because as stupid as it sounds, it doesn't feel like it's done until someone says the words. Hell, the only people I knew that he called friends are our little groups." She's rambling a bit, unfocused today.
"Closure is important," Peyton says softly. She has her doubts, still… part of her refuses to believe it. She nods to the lady tending bar. "Can I get a glass of brandy, neat?" She's no longer underaged, though she doubts anyone would really care anyway at a time like this. "I have something for you," she says a little shyly, reaching into her pocket, and bringing out a tiny red silk draw-string pouch. "It's… stupid, just a token, but… to keep him close." She hands the pouch to the woman, touching her own chest. "I have one too." There's a silver chain that drops down into Peyton's blouse, the rest unseen.
Crossing her legs and relaxing back on the stool as Peyton joins her, Elisabeth's smile takes on a bitter turn. "There is no real closure unless you have a body. I'll always wonder about Conrad…. and I'll always wonder about Richard," she admits softly. "Tamara's rarely wrong, from what I understand. And she told you we were all coming back. And there are rumors that Danko's been seen in New York that I'm trying to track down the source of. And if Danko survived….." Elisabeth bites her lip. "I'm struggling with hope… that maybe somehow…"
Turning her attention away from the maudlin, Liz sets her drink on the bar after another swallow of it. And she looks a bit curious, taking the small pouch gently. "You… for me?" She glances up as one of the girls behind the bar brings Peyton her drink and refills Elisabeth's without asking, nodding her thanks. Opening the pouch and slipping the charm out, she stares at the tiny silver cardinal on its delicate chain. "It's… lovely," Liz chokes out softly, her free hand coming up to stroke the pendant. "Thank you, Peyton."
Elisabeth's reaction to the gift is lost on Peyton. All color has drained out of the girl's face, and her hand moves to grip the bar top, perhaps to keep from falling off the barstool. This news flash comes on top of Bones' unknowing reminder the night before of her time in HF's hands. She bites her lip to keep from gasping, but finally manages to speak, while Liz looks down at the tiny silver charm.
"Danko's… not in prison? He was with you on the mission?"
She isn't thinking of Emile Danko at present, and isn't at the bar, but is present. Cat's at a table alone with a pint of dark brew, Guinness Stout, and drinking it slowly. Her eyes are focused on a wall, it's the expression commonly found in residence when she's traveling the road of replaying memory. Silence is held in so doing; leaving it unknown just what events, persons, or combination thereof are being viewed as freshly as things which happened five minutes before.
Looking up at Peyton, Elisabeth understands better than anyone the horror in Peyton's face. "Not with me," she says quietly. "I didn't find out until we were en route to Antarctica that Danko was apparently part of one of the first teams out there. He was down in Antarctica, from what I gather. He's the only name I didn't mention to the priest — even nameless, Danko didn't deserve absolution." Her tone is tight with anger and hatred. Slipping the silver charm around her neck, Liz glances toward Cat and studies the woman's face. "Wakes are for remembering, but Cat looks like she might be a little too into it. Why don't you nudge her to join us?" she says gently, and then she reaches out to squeeze Peyton's arm. "I'm following up on the rumors. I promise. Try not to worry."
Peyton knows Elisabeth understands, of all people. She doesn't know if Liz was present at the trial, thanks to the blindfold and her own promise not to "cheat" with her vision, which she upheld. "He said he'd kill me if he escaped," she whispers, but she nods at Liz's suggestion, stepping down and making her way to the table Cat sits at.
"Hey, Cat. Elisabeth wants you to join us," she manages, trying to smile at the woman who looks like she could be her sister.
A voice shakes her out of whatever was being viewed, and she blinks. "Peyton," she remarks with a slow nod. Cat rises and takes her pint, transferring it to the bar. As a seat is settled onto, she smooths the back of her dress and eyes the wallpaper briefly. "That'll go over well when the virgin returns," she remarks with a quiet chuckle. Some things the panmnesiac is in the dark about, that being one of them. "It'd be priceless to see the look on her face."
Elisabeth hadn't even noticed the wallpaper. A faint smile for Cat and blue eyes look toward the wall…. and Liz double-takes. "Oh shit," she says with a soft giggle. "Abby's gonna have a conniption!" She looks over the back of the bar. "Brenda!" she calls in a hiss. "What the hell???" She gestures to the wallpaper. She makes no attempt to correct Cat's comment on virginity — not her place to gossip.
Brenda looks over from filling up a pint and grins. "Welcome home present for the boss" The brunette remarks. "Found it in this bar across town, we just put it up yesterday. You like it?" With a fresh round for everyone, the petite buxom woman comes over, settling everything into place on the table and taking away empties.
Peyton looks at the wallpaper and offers a shaky smile, not really finding anything that humorous at the moment. Her personal nightmare has come true — that Danko is out and free. She picks up her glass of brandy and takes a swallow, closing her eyes as she lets the warming liquid fill her.
"There's room for a bartender at the Cellar when the Nun fires you, Brenda," Cat offers with a grin. It's still the most likely outcome she sees of this situation. "But it's probably worth finding a new job, just to see her reaction." Her stout is lifted and enjoyed, silence then coming to reign as conversation is left to others.
With a facepalm, Elisabeth starts to laugh. Perhaps it's a bit harder than is warranted by the risque wallpaper, too. Because the blonde ex-cop says between giggles, "Now that is something Richard would have appreciated." She can't stop the chuckling. Maybe she's already had a little too much to drink, too — she slides off the stool eventually and says, "I'll be right back. Oh lord… I gotta get this under control." She heads for the bathroom in the back.
"We'll see how the boss lady takes it, but i'll put up a resumee anyways. You never know with the way she's been lately. Barely here. Holler if you need more drinks" Brenda says before stalking off to the bar, a somber smile on her face for the gravity of the event.
Liz's giggle fit gets Peyton to at least smile sincerely, and she turns to look at Cat with a smile on her face, appreciating the fact that the other brunette in their trio made Liz laugh. She takes another swallow of her brandy, and a slight shiver runs through her body. She could possibly help Elisabeth track down where Danko is, if she uses her power, but … she hadn't tried to see from his perspective for a reason. She's afraid to.
"It's a shame she isn't around," Cat remarks, "I was going to see about taking her somewhere for her twenty-first." Eyes track Elisabeth where she goes, then return to survey behind the bar as that pint comes up again.
"Oh, did she just turn 21? I did, too. On New Year's Eve," Peyton says softly, lifting her drink again to take another swallow, and voila, the drink is done. She lifts a hand to Brenda for another. "So I can get legally drunk now, in Cardinal's honor." She smiles a bit, then grows more somber, leaning close to Cat to whisper, "Did you know Danko was on the mission? And is supposedly alive and free?"
Her pint, just about to be tasted again, is slowly lowered. "Let us not speak of that man here today," Cat advises. "I don't fear him, won't let him impact my life that way. If he presents a problem, the problem will be solved in a positive way." The confidence she tends to exude is present, the absence of doubt, which she hopes will transfer to Miss Whitney.
And she changes topics. "Happy 21st, Peyton," is offered with a raise of her pint to toast. She doesn't say so, but there will be plotting of something to cover the missed anniversaire.
Oh, yes, there will be plotting.
When she comes back, Elisabeth looks…. composed. Mostly. It perhaps wasn't the laughter that sent her around the corner but the tears that followed it. But even that's sort of in a good way. Sliding back up onto her barstool she asks mildly, "What'd I miss?"
"Nothing much. We were naming the wallpaper figures," Peyton says brightly, following Cat's model. "This is Biff and this is Buck, and this is Spanky," she says, gesturing with her now refilled glass toward various figures doing rather naughty things in silhouette. "You can name these two," she says, pointing to a pair.
The name 'Spanky' when referencing Old Lucy's new wallpaper actually sends Liz into a small spate of snickers once more. "Oh Lord…. Abby's gonna have a stroke or something." She shakes her head and picks up the glass that Brenda oh-so-kindly refilled again. It looks like the women behind the bar are planning on helping some people in this room get really plastered.
"And discussing twenty-firsts, which Peyton just had," Cat adds just before drinking more. She sits, clad in dark dress and heels, flanking Peyton with Elisabeth to the other side and eyes resting on what's been spotted as interesting wallpaper.
Silence is lapsed into, she letting the others converse now.
"Really irrelevant," Peyton says in regards to her birthday. "But thanks." She smiles and takes a long drink from her snifter, clearly planning on getting drunk. "Should we name one Dick?" she asks, eyes sparkling a touch as the drink gives her the liquid courage to forget about Danko for the time being.
There is a facepalm as Peyton says that, and Elisabeth dies laughing. Yes… Brenda has clearly kept her far more topped up than is perhaps wise. "Oh. My. God. Peyton…. that's priceless." Turning in her seat, Elisabeth kicks off her high heels and climbs up onto the bar. It's so nice not to have to shout to be heard over a roomfull of friends — and to not have to hide what she does. "Ladies and gentlemen," the blonde says from the top of the bar, "I propose a toast. The girls and I have decided to name at least one of the little figures on the fabulous new wallpaper 'Dick' in honor of Richard Cardinal — because of all the people we know, he would have been the first to thoroughly appreciate the very subtle and very risque nature of Lucy's new decor." She holds up a glass.
"Here is to Richard and to Francois and to Gabriel and Dixon and all the other unnamed ones who went where we went and saw what we saw. Though no one else will ever know how much they owe these people, we know it. And we remember and say thank you." She turns to Brenda and says, "Crank up the music, lady. Because this is supposed to be a celebration of life. The funeral's over."
Xuilan does NOT want to be here. She really doesn't. But despite that, she does show up. She has, quietly simply, had more then her fair share of funerals and death in the past few months. And yes, despite the fact that she chased Liz out of her shop at with gun, she still offers the woman a chin up as she makes her way toward the bar. A wake, she can do without. A drink, is something she wants more then air. "Scotch," she notes flatly to the bartender. "Straight. Make it a double." At the toast, she merely slants a glance up to Liz, her head giving a faint shake. She's hear, that's all she can really offer.
She has been at the mass, but Claire almost didn't want to come to the wake, which is probably why the young blonde regenerator is sneaking in late, though it seems not too late for the toast. Seeing Liz climbing up on the bar, makes the young woman smirk. Her own heels click on the flooring as she moves to mingle with the gathered crowd, in her black dress, blonde curls pulled on the back of her head. Probably one of the few times, people will see Claire look nice.
A small smile is given to Liz, everyone else is pretty much strangers to her, memories left on a cement floor in Madagascar. "Hear hear!" She calls at the end of Elisabeth's speech.
Xiulan is one of the EndGamers that Peyton knows least, but she offers the woman a smile. She laughs at Liz and claps her hands, raising her own glass of brandy to the blonde's words. "To Redbird," she calls out, bringing a murmuring of the same from the others around her. One hand goes to the little cardinal charm she wears tucked into her blouse, as she takes a large gulp of the amber alcohol.
Climbing down from the bar, Elisabeth flashes a good bit of leg in that very tasteful long-sleeved dress she's wearing. She notes the entrance of Xiulan and a look of…. relief?… crosses her face. Slipping her feet back into her high heels, Liz picks up her own glass and nods solemnly to Xiulan. Then she leans over and kisses the petite little color manipulator on the cheek wordlessly. There is nothing she can say to the woman that she knows shared her feelings for a shadowmorph. Instead, she looks toward the bar, slowly filling up with people, and nods to Claire's entrance.
At the kiss to her cheek, Xiulan slants a glance at Liz. "You know I would not really have shot you I hope." She does, however, gather up her drink, the double, and tosses it back in one long swallow. "I am not staying long," she adds in a quiet mutter. She just can't handle another wake.
Moving to the bar, Claire leans over it to call to one of the tender. "Just a coke please." She knows by now she's not going to get away with a real drink, not that it does anything for her. The buzz would never last. As she waits for her drink, she can only look over faces of other people there, her mind turning over their faces in her head trying to see if they fit any where in her memories.
"Hey," Peyton says softly to Claire, making room for the girl to share her barstool since the bar is crowded now. They have small butts, they can make it work. "Here," she adds, giving the girl she sort of knows, and who knows her even less, a red pouch with a silver chain in it, a cardinal charm hanging. "Just to remember him by." She winces a little as she uses the word 'remember,' a bit of a faux pas given the small blonde's recent adventures. "Doing okay, Claire?"
There's a faint smile as she sips the glass of scotch in her hand. "I do," Elisabeth says softly. "And that's fine. I don't know how long I'll stay either. Long enough to get royally shit-faced, that's for damn sure." Maybe at least then she'll sleep. The group of women leaning on the bar might make for an interesting sight — Chinese tattoo artist, blonde ex-cop, tinyblonde regenerator, brunette panamnesiac, and brunette seer. Elisabeth looks at the group quietly for a long moment, perhaps wondering why they never did this when people were here to enjoy it. "Hey Brenda…. line us up some shots. And forget that Claire's birthday isn't here yet for this one, if you don't mind."
The woman talking to her gets an odd look, confusion as she skims her memories and then frustration as Claire can't remember her. The pouch is taken carefully, brows quirking up slightly as she pulls the necklace out. Blue eyes sadden for a moment, "Thank you… ah…." She glances at Peyton a brow lifting, as she messes with the clasp so that she can put it around her neck. "I'm… doing okay. Considering I have to relearn everyone I ever met in the past five months."
"Peyton," the brunette clairvoyant supplies to Claire, with a smile. "I was sort of new, when you all left." She glances up at Liz and the call for shots. "Oh, shit. I hope I can keep my shit together," she says, having mostly finished her second glass of brandy. Mack helped her learn to keep her focus while drunk, but that was without the added burden of deep sorrow and new fear beneath the surface. "But I'll give it a try."
"At least you can get drunk." Claire comments softly a glance to Liz, before turning her attention back to Peyton. "I personally can't get drunk." A small smile on her lips. "My liver heals it away and all that. Something crazy." The necklace is settled around her neck, the charm settled on her chest. "Nice way to remember him." She murmurs. "And.. it's nice to meet you…. again I guess it would be." A smirk tugging at a corner of her mouth.
Shots are lined up on the bar and the tequila and lemons come out almost as if someone behind the bar was anticipating at least one of these calls. And Elisabeth grins slightly. "Wish Abby were here," she comments softly. "Alright, ladies…. ante up. Shots!"
"It's all right. We only met a couple of times. Some target practice and after some horrible event out at the island," Peyton tells the other. She begins the procedure of the tequila shot — lick, salt, lick, drink, lemon. "I like lime better," Peyton says with scrunched eyes and wrinkled nose though she laughs once she puts down the empty shot glass for a refill.
"Shots huh?" She eyes the shot, picking it up. Claire watches Peyton with her, before Claire just down it straight with a bit of a grimace. Giving a bit of cough, she grins at Peyton. "I figure why beat around the bush. Whew.. damn. Been awhile.." She settles on the seat next to Peyton finally, allowing herself to relax. "Hopefully, they won't want us to share stories.. I feel lucky I remember him at all." A glance goes down the bar at all the other people.
"Nah. I think … just talk to whoever you want to, remember him that way," Peyton says softly. "I didn't know him as well as most people either. You two were close. He just… he helped me get some focus, when I was pretty lost otherwise." There's a half smile at that. "And he helped me save someone. Apparently, it's a theme for him. Not surprised to know he went out doing something unselfish, you know?" Peyton sighs, watching as Brenda refills the shot glasses again.
"Yeah, everyone says that." Claire comments with a small frown as she watches the shot glasses get refilled. "That we were close." A sideways glance is sent to Peyton, as the new shot is picked up off the counter. "And he did.. totally saved us all.. It was… quite the sight. Course, an image of it was on the net according to Bones. I.. didn't look. I was there. It's is kinda seared into my brain." The next shot is down just as quickly as the first.
Peyton's eyebrows shoot up. No one else has told her what. A glance sideways shows Cat and Elisabeth and Xiulan to be otherwise occupied. "What … happened?" She picks up the shot, skipping the salt this time, and tosses it back. The world spins a moment, and she reaches for the bartop again to keep her balance. "Shiiit. My roommate's going to kill me. At least this time I'm 21."
A hand presses to Peyton's back holding her steady, "Not sure I should." Claire sounds uncertain, biting her lip and chewing it a bit. "You just turned legal? I've got a few more months, but very soon I won't have to worry." Taking a deep breath, Claire thinks about what she can say about it. Since they are on the same stool, it's easy to lean close and murmur, "Basically.. there is was an explosion and Cardinal protected everyone by taking the bomb into the shadows before it exploded." Greatly dumbed down, but the truth.
Peyton's dark eyes widen at the truth. "I won't … tell anyone," she says, even as the tears spring to her eyes, realizing that their mutual friend, their leader, sacrificed himself for everyone else. It's a long, somber moment for the clairvoyant, and she closes her eyes in yet another moment of silence.
It doesn't last long as the alcohol is making her light headed, and she begins to laugh. Her elbows plant themselves on the bar and she buries her face in her hands, the laughing growing louder. "Dick's last resort…" she manages when she gets a breath of air, the irreverent pun obscenely humorous to her as her alcohol level rises.
Okay, so Claire can't help but smirk at Peyton. "I guess it was wasn't it." She reaches over and pulls the shot glass away from Peyton. "And you miss are one hell of a light weight. She downs her third shot and then shakes her head at Brenda, as she's had enough of that. What is the use really?
"I had more before you came," Peyton says, her drunkard's honor at stake. "Two big glasses of brandy." She's been drinking since she was 14 — can't have some regenerator upstart calling her a lightweight just because she could drink Peyton under the table due to super liver! "I'm out of practice. I stopped after it screwed up my power." So far she's not lost control today, though. She smiles a bit as she realizes the fact.
"Well then shouldn't push it then," Claire chuckles a bit, taking up her coke that's been waiting for her. She takes a sip, swishing it around her mouth to take away the lingering taste of the Tequila. She feels just the same, which seriously sucks when you want to drink to forget. "So what does your ability do?" She can't help but ask.
"Party pooper," Peyton says with a chuckle, but glances up to order a water. Claire is unfortunately right. "I'm …" she glances around those nearest, but sees no one that is unfamiliar enough to be a worry in hearing range. That, and she trusts Liz not to invite someone who would be dangerous. Still, the last time she was in Old Lucy's, she was kidnapped for being Evolved. "I can see through other's eyes."
There is a soft, "Ooooh." from Claire. "That actually sounds rather useful." Another long drink is taken of her soda, as fingers play with the charm Peyton gave her. "Help keep tabs on people in dangerous situations." That makes the blonde regenerator turn thoughtful.
Elisabeth is drinking pretty steadily — not outrageously to get immediately drunk, but often enough to get a serious buzz going and keep it at a maintenance level. Something about the ex-cop's demeanor seems to indicate that she might be paying more attention than people realize to the conversations going on around her, too. A fingertip absently reaches up to run the silvery cardinal pendant back and forth along its delicate chain, and when Peyton slips away from the bathroom, Liz excuses herself from Xiulan and Cat to make her way to Claire's side. "Hey, lady," she drawls softly. "Seen a fairy Feeb around here anywhere? I think he slipped out a little while ago, but… " She looks at Claire. "How you holding up?"
"A fairy Feeb?" Claire asks Elisabeth as she joins her. "Can't say as I have, if he was, he left before I got here." The question about herself, the tiny blonde, gives a little shrug and sips at her soda. "Better then I thought I would. Not sleeping a whole hell of lot, but luckily…" She holds her hadn a part a bit. "Regenerator." But then she huffs softly. "Been trying to decide what I want to do with my college classes. But I think I'll start general ed and go from there." She leans over and rests her shoulder against Elisabeth's. "How are you holding up?"
Leaning her elbows on the bar, some four shots or so into tequila, Liz seems steady on her high heels. She nudges lightly against Claire's shoulder and forces a small smile. "Haven't slept most of the week," she admits quietly. "I keep waiting for him to slip out of the shadows and say 'sorry I'm late, lover.'" She swirls the liquid in the glass she's carrying — scotch, if the color is any indicator (don't talk to her today about mixing liquors) — and looks down into it. "Now I'm worrying about Peyton. The rumors about Danko being seen… she didn't realize Danko was out there. I never… really said anything. So now she's scared shitless, and I can't track down anything but rumors." She sighs. "Anyway….. general education is good, Claire. When you don't know what you want to do with your education, the broadest possible education can sometimes help you decide where your talents and interests are."
Dropping her head briefly on Liz's shoulder Claire grimaces. "Yeah.. I'm sorry your not sleeping well. I know I've got major nightmares going still… so I opt not to sleep… But yeah… How are you doing knowing Danko is out there? That part of the reason your not sleeping well?" Sipping at her soda and then just kinda twisting it on the bar, she sighs softly, "Starting to wonder where my talent do lie. Most of my knowledge is well… kinda limited to what we did for a few months there. Even before then."
THere's a brief shake of her head and Liz replies to Claire as her head rests on top of the tinyblonde's, "It's all rumors. Nothing confirmed, nothing even solid. Hell, it could be Humanis putting the rumors out just to scare us. I don't…. sleep well anymore anyway. Afraid of the dark." Elisabeth smiles faintly. "Was working on that before I got nabbed, but… I had the anti-anxiety meds then. Now I'm working through it on my own. Gotta say, going out there seems to have had a positive effect on my nightmares at least, I guess. They're still there, I still have them, but… so damn much else has happened that they're less." She does smile for Claire. "Well, now while we're between crises, is as good a time as any to work it out, kiddo."
Eileen's arrival is unassuming, unobtrusive and likely to go unnoticed by anyone not watching the door. Although she lacks religious convictions, she attended the service in somber silence and sat apart at the back of the church on one of the empty pews, small hands knotted in her lap and face absent of expression. When she enters the bar, her demeanor is much the same; clothed in a woolen coat worn over a plain black dress, her appearance is utterly unremarkable except for the red heels on her feet and the poppy tucked behind her left ear. These splashes of colour bring out the rosy cast of her face, cheeks powdered with rouge, and her small, pursed mouth, the shape of which betrays her discomfort.
Cardinal and Francois were not her friends. Neither are any of the people at the bar this afternoon, and it's with a marked amount of caution that she shuts the door behind her while her other hand clutches at the front of her coat to hold it closed. Droplets of rainwater have accumulated in the loose curls of her dark hair, worn up for a change, and glitter there like a net of rhinestones. She's here to have a drink, pay her respects and leave.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Peyton enters a stall, locking it, and sits on the commode to stare at the door in front of her. Taking a shaky breath, she focuses on Danko; his cold blue eyes, his bald head, his evil voice still ringing in her ears with the threat to kill her for speaking out against him at the trial. Her surroundings dim, and she finds herself looking at shaky hands that are not hers; older, fine-boned but masculine and older hands, fumbling with a bottle and a syringe; she cannot read the bottle, but the fluid that fills the syringe is a pale yellow. Suddenly he startles, dropping the syringe in a drawer. The eyes look into a mirror of what is obviously a small, sparse apartment bathroom, then the room spins a bit as Danko turns to head out of the room, down a hallway, toward the front door. His hand reaches out to open it, but Peyton can't make it out — the disorientation of the vision combined with the brandy and tequila is too much. The bathroom stall comes back into focus, and she has just enough time to get up, turn and kneel before she loses the contents of her stomach.
After a few moments, Peyton stops shaking, heads out of the stall and to the sink to rinse her mouth, splash her face and breathe. She heads back out to the bar, looking a little worse for wear, but perhaps less drunk.
"I guess… At least I don't scream when I wake up… " Claire's nose wrinkles at the thought. "Sometimes, I don't think Bones sleeps, I get up and there he is…. It's kind of odd being there just him and I most of the time." There is a small shake of her head and a sigh. "Starting to already feel restless as well…. Was good to get out, even for this.. though seriously… I hope no one tells Abby about the drinks. She'll be pissed." Claire chuckles, resting her head on the palm of hand.
"Mmmmm," Elisabeth comments. "Well… considering your metabolism, I don't think it'll be too big an issue. Even if you were to get stopped, there wouldn't be any in your blood." She takes a swallow from her glass and murmurs, "And you're not actually alone there with him. I've spent a couple nights sleeping in the office, near the generator. Just… kept the door closed." She shrugs slightly and turns to set her glass on the bar so Brenda can come by with another and catches sight of the new arrival. An expression akin to sympathy crosses her features, and Elisabeth says, "I'll be right back." She pushes off the bar and walks toward Eileen, stopping in front of the other woman. "I'm really glad you came," she says quietly.
"I heard people might be saying a few words," Eileen says. A solitary drop of rainwater trickles down the slope of her neck and disappears under the collar of her coat somewhere between her clavicle the base of her throat. Her eyes move past Elisabeth to Claire at the bar and Peyton emerging from the bathroom, perhaps in search of more familiar faces. There are none — or if there are, she can't see them from her vantage point. "Is that still the case?"
Her blue eyes on Eileen, Elisabeth replies, "It is. C'mon… come sit." She puts a hand out to escort Eileen to the bar personally and gesture Brenda over to get Eileen whatever she'd like. "I saw you.. at the church," she says quietly. "I hope that you thought the service did justice to Gabriel as well. I asked the priest not to name any names at all, but he had a list of them. All the ones we lost. And I… honestly didn't know whether Gabriel or Francois the others cared all that much, but… a service isn't really for them anyway, is it? It's for us… the ones left behind." She's rambling just a little, her tone… just a little deferential, as if it's important to her for Eileen to find what solace she can. Heaven knows, Liz isn't finding too much. "I, uhm… already said my piece, but if you want to say a few words, you are more than welcome. If you want to just sit… we'll just sit. Okay?"
Seeing Liz head over to someone, Peyton's dark eyes follow and she raises a hand in greeting to the woman she only knows slightly, having worked with her to meet Harlow's demands in retrieving Belinda. Just another death threat for Peyton. She slides back on to the barstool just as the other women make their way to the bar. "Hey," Peyton says to the petite brunette, the taller brunette looking like death warmed over. She reaches for her water, choosing not to take in any more alcohol for the time being.
She leans to whisper in Liz's ear, very very quietly, hand cupped to keep the words from spilling beyond, "Danko is alive." It's horrible news to Peyton, but it also might mean hope for the others.
"If they hadn't cared, they wouldn't have been there," Eileen starts, and it sounds as though she's about to say something else, but whatever it might have been withers on the very tip of her tongue when Peyton folds her hand over Elisabeth's ear and murmurs into it. Her own ears strain to hear what words are being exchanged, but between the tinkle of glasses and the rain pattering against the window outside, the name Danko goes missed. That doesn't stop her from dissecting Elisabeth's reaction to the news in an attempt to understand what might have been said, however.
Elisabeth smiles faintly, "I meant caring about whether we had a service or no—" Her words are interrupted by Peyton and her eyes turn sharply to the younger woman. Shock and outrage and… even some tiny flicker of hope rolls through Elisabeth, and a soft shudder of not-soft rolls through the room at the same time. "You're certain?" she demands rhetorically. Because of course Peyton is certain. SHIT. Wide blue eyes turn back to Eileen, and Liz bites her lower lip. To tell or not to tell. She leans sideways to Eileen, the shock still darkening her crystal blue eyes to a darker hue, and she whispers, "I…."
She looks around the bar, and instead of waiting, Liz encloses Eileen and herself in a small, private little bubble of silence. "Eileen…. Peyton…. is a clairvoyant. Can see… through other people's eyes, people she's met before. She…. We'd heard some rumors about Danko, and she … thought to check." Her expression may tell the rest without Liz having to say the words. But she's not sure how Eileen will take that information, honestly.
Peyton can guess what Liz has done, when she suddenly can see the woman speaking but not hear her. She just gives a nod. Yes, she's certain. "He looked bad. Was … shooting up with something. He went to the door, but I couldn't see anymore. Drunk." She makes a face at herself for trying to do something so important when under the influence. "I'll try again later." She doesn't look very happy about that idea, but it's important. "I'm guessing that they gave him some sort of deal like they did with the rest of the 'volunteers,'" she says, the words tinged with bitterness. She assumes Liz can hear, despite blocking her out of the conversation.
Apart from a slight tightening at the corners of her mouth, Eileen does not visibly react to the news. This may be because it isn't news at all. As she removes the soft leather gloves from her hands and tucks them into the pocket of her coat, she averts her eyes from Elisabeth's face and adjusts one of the silver rings she wears on her thin, pale fingers, their nails painted dark red to match her shoes, the poppy in her hair and the lipstick on her mouth. "I know," she says. "I was the one who started them."
Elisabeth looks surprised, and then merely nods slowly. "Perhaps we should talk after this is done," she murmurs. A hand comes up and squeezes Eileen's shoulder, the only real comfort she can give. She merely nods to Peyton, acknowledging the rest of what's been said, and leaves the topic of Danko for now. Today is for remembering the people willing to bust their tails to save the world. Again. She drops the silence bubble and asks Eileen softly, "What are you drinking, lady? Anything you like."
Noriko slips into the building, the Asian wearing a somber and modest black dress. She does know what the mood of the place is, at the least, even if she can't remember who passed. Her eyes looking over the scene for a couple of moments, before she decides to head to the bar. The young woman begins to migrate in their direction, through the other people who are in her way.
Peyton picks up her glass of water, leaving the alcohol alone now. She nods to Elisabeth, and gives a faint smile to Eileen, not sure what the other said, but knowing she didn't look too surprised about her news. She takes a long drink of water and takes comfort in the fact that Danko looked to be in no shape for enacting revenge anytime soon.
The muscles in Eileen's shoulder tense under Elisabeth's touch. There's a moment where it looks like she might reach up and brush the hand from her coat with her own — instead, she draws in a sharp breath, back and neck becoming rigid as she straightens in place, steeling herself. "I'd appreciate it," she says, "if people would stop treating me like I'm some sort of delicate flower that's going to wilt if someone breathes on me. I've heard dozens of apologies the last week, but not one of them for the right thing."
Elisabeth snickers faintly at that. "Oh, I don't think you're a delicate flower, Eileen," she corrects softly. "I think the entire situation sucks shit all the way around." She waits for the glass in front of her to be filled, and then looks at the brunette. "I think you lost someone you care about — and like the rest of us, you're going to pull yourself back up and keep on going because it's what we do. So … I'm going to tell you that I'm sorry you lost him, and that's the only thing I can say sorry for, because I don't think I did anything else to apologize to you for." She shrugs slightly.
"If I did do something I need to apologize for, now's the time to tell me — cuz I'll apologize profusely. But I'm pretty sure it's Kershner and her ilk that really need to do the apologizing. For shit like throwing a bastard like Danko into the middle of the lot of us. For… I don't know what the fuck else, honestly. I'm sure we're all getting screwed somehow, I just haven't quite sorted out how yet." She sips from her drink.
Noriko reaches the bar, after managing to weave her way through a couple of folks. Her eyes looking up and down the bar while she takes a seat. She spots Elisabeth and Eileen, but she doesn't say much to the either of them, since they seem to be rather absorbed in their own conversations. For now, Noriko is quite content to just be seated and around people she recognizes. Being around strangers who recognize her as been causing her no end of stress as each new person she has to ask herself if they're not someone she knows and has a history with.
Realizing that Eileen must have lost someone close, too, Peyton murmurs "I'm sorry," softly, not knowing the woman's history or even what unnamed soul she is most grieving for, of those added on to Cardinal's mass. She pulls out her cell phone — no longer pink and glittery, for she got an iPhone for herself for her birthday, and punches a few keys — namely, a warning to one particular friend to watch her step.
"What is you want us to apologize for? I'm with Liz.. Kershner and the government gets blamed for Danko being out and about." Claire asks as she slips in, brushing a couple of curls over her ears as she studies her team mate. A soda in her hand, the regenerator shrugs her shoulder, helplessly. "I am glad he and I got to… come to an… understanding before the last mission. I got to hear his side of it, so I won't continue to think badly of him." Just knowing, that if she hadn't run into Gabriel on the the carrier, she might have gone through like thinking the worse of him in that one situation.
As Elisabeth is speaking, Eileen takes the opportunity to order a glass of cheap red wine from the bar, though she opts to remain standing rather than sit. She palms a silver clasp out of her coat pocket, rumpled pieces of cash folded between its teeth, and slides a ten dollar bill across the counter to the bartender on duty who waits for the drink to be poured before counting out the change and passing it back.
"If you have to be sorry for something," she says, "be sorry that Gabriel had to die before anyone was willing to formally acknowledge his capacity for good." She drops the change into the glass tipping jar, filling the bar with the sound of rattling nickels and jingling dimes.
Noriko merely sits and listens, for now. The hydrokinetic unsure of herself, and content to just sit until she is acknowledge. The wonderful social skills that she has and all.
Shaking her head, Elisabeth says quietly, "That would be false, actually. He made a lot of mistakes. I can't tell you what I think of him right now because even I don't know. I do know…. that in another future, he and I were apparently friends. Which means somewhere in all of that? Is a good man. And I've thought about that from time to time for months." She shrugs a little. "Take it for what it's worth, Eileen."
The name Gabriel rings a bell, though Peyton saw him in the guise of another man when she met him. "If he helped do this thing… that you all went to do… he did something right. I don't know him, but I thank him for … saving us," Peyton says quietly. "Thank you all, in fact, who went, to protect us, whether you volunteered or whether you were forced into it. I won't forget any of them… even those I didn't know." Tears glimmer in her eyes before she brushes them away with the sleeve of her Chanel suit jacket
"I… that's a pretty big thing to ask Eileen.. Especially, considering the past he and I had." Claire motions at Liz, "Given time… maybe, that night was the first time he and I talked. I need more then one evenings discussion." Which she had hoped to have… sadly… not so. Peyton's arm gets a small squeeze. "All in a days work really. You'll learn.. this won't be the last of it I'm sure." That last said a touch blandly.
"I never said he didn't make mistakes," Eileen murmurs around the rim of her wine glass, lipstick leaving an ugly print where her mouth comes into contact with it. She takes a sip, the bitter taste cathartic, and rests her hand not balancing the stem between her fingers on the edge of the counter. "He was arrogant, condescending, self-important and had the emotional availability of a clam. There's no such thing as a good man, Elisabeth, though it's interesting that your litmus test for morality is based on friendship."
Through all of this, Cat simply observes, as she has been. It's a neutral expression she wears, perhaps concealing a desire to spank Peyton for mentioning he whose name should not have been spoken. Her pint of stout is emptied, which prompts a gesture to Brenda for another.
Elisabeth grins slightly. "Well, hell, Eileen. I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'good' person either — you know, all the running about killing people? So what the hell should be the litmus test? But in point of fact, a 'good man' in my mind is one who's willing to put aside what he wants for the safety of the whole. So…. seems to me in spite of the mass murderer issues, Gabe anted up." She shrugs a bit. "I'm told I make a shitty cop because my moral compass is a bit flexible these days."
Peyton finishes texting and slips the phone away. She notices Noriko on the fringe of the group, frowning a touch as she knows the woman was once under cover as Humanis First, but helped in the end to rescue Helena and Wendy. Everything's a reminder of Danko, it seems, when he should be the furthest from her mind when they're meant to be remembering the noble dead. She gives a nod to the Asian woman, and then smiles at Claire's comments. "Unfortunately, you're probably right. At least if what Cardinal said was true. This is just one battle, not the war."
Danko has arrived.
Noriko blinks at Peyton's nod, and her eyes narrow slightly before she scootches over a bit to ask, "Um… this is probably going to sound a little strange, but… do I know you?" Her eyes go over to Cat for a moment or two, recognizing her from before.
Mistakes is an understatement really in Claire's mind, but she keeps that to herself. She follows Peyton's gaze to Noriko, her there is a look of pity for the woman. "Yeah.. this was a big battle though, I'll give it that… and if what we've been seeing from this Rebel guy is true.. the next battle is on the horizon." She waves a hand at Noriko. "Evening Noriko."
Without fanfare, the front door of Old Lucy's opens and then shuts, and Jensen Raith has entered the mess as quietly as he can. Whether or not anyone notices him, he doesn't bother getting rid of his long coat and, perhaps with an old habit, he's wearing those round-lensed sunglasses that miraculously survived all the punishment and abuse of operations in South America and Antarctica combined, even though there is no need for them indoors. Without a word, he makes his way from the entrance over to the rest of the crowd. If anyone will speak regarding his arrival, it seems like it will have to be somebody else first. At least, until he changes his mind.
"Back together again," he says, "If only the circumstances were happier." He'll allow the others a chance to speak while he orders from the barkeep- taking himself and no one else back to the old days- a double of their finest cheap Scotch.
Peyton nods to Noriko. They sort of knew one another, though her name was protected so that the HF spy wouldn't know it. "Kinda. Hi." She doesn't offer her name this time, either, since anything affiliated with HF right now is … too close for comfort. If Noriko doesn't remember, she isn't going to remind the woman. "Just a friend of Cardinal's," she says vaguely, glancing at the man who comes up to the bar, curiously.
Noriko looks over at Claire for a moment, before she responds, "Claire, right?" She then looks down at her arm, and knits her eyebrows, before pointing at the paler patch of her skin and then saying, "Sarisa… Sarisa said you might be able to explain this?"
When Eileen falls a bit silent, Elisabeth merely picks up her scotch and sips from it. She shifts her weight in her high heels, beginning to feel the stretch and complaint of feet far too many years out of those damnable things after hours on her feet. But she doesn't slip them off here. Not yet. She slants a look at the other women at the bar and snickers softly to herself. Damn, Richard… you always seem to have a harem. I'm starting to think you didn't HAVE guy friends. Which is not entirely true, but it amuses the hell out of her at this moment with the buzz she's got going.
Raith's entrance goes unnoticed, but his presence at the bar obviously doesn't — the only male at the wooden counter. Elisabeth tilts her head and says down the bar, "Glad you could make it." She didn't know him well — hell, she hardly knew him at all, but he saved their asses and kept that chopper in the air.
There's some kind of paper on the door outside about a private gathering.
Emile Danko squints at it, right hand lifted to smooth down a corner that's curled up in the cold and damp. Closed for a private gathering. S'what it says. A dry sniff and a scrub at his nose later, he turns back to nod confirmation to his driver and a car approximately as black as the austere swing of his navy coat slushes away from the curb.
Then he's pushing his way on in not too long after Raith, no more a draw of attention at first than anyone else milling around inside. Several of those present are in somber dress. So is he. That the colorless bristle of his burr and the shadows hollowed in around his deep set, silvery eyes are familiar is up to the most observant of those who happen to glance doorwards at his entry to ascertain.
Watching Raith's approach gets an arch of the brow, she's only seen him on the carrier on occasion. A small smile tugs lightly at the corner of her mouth. When Noriko shows her the patch of skin, Claire's head tilts slightly and frowns. Reaching out she touches the patch of skin and slowly shakes her had. "I…. have no idea?" She takes a step forward and rests her arm next to that patch and her brows lift. "Obviously it's a memory I lost." She murmurs thoughtfully. Glancing at Peyton, Claire says a bit louder. "It's the same color as my skin. I know I was used for some sort of testing while I was captured.. but… this… I don't remember this." She's too busy with this little discovery to notice a familiar man walking in the door.
Danko's arrival sees an immediate change in Eileen. She'd been setting her wine aside to go to Raith, but the moment that his short figure emerges through the door, its frame made slick by the rain, her posture shifts and the hand that had been cradling her glass slips into the front of her coat, fingers curling around something kept snug between her breast and its dark-coloured silk lining.
A pink flush spreads through her cheeks, jaw tight and teeth pressed together around a haggard exhalation of breath that serves as a warning for those in the immediate vicinity who don't have their attention turned toward the entryway.
Other people notice the arrival of Danko too. "Private party sir" Brenda calls from the counter where she's filling up a pitcher of samuel adams for one of the tables that are filled with folks mourning the loss of a few people. So far, it's not clicked in that Mr. white hair, sunken features is the guy in the picture (along with a few other people) who are persona non grata within Lucy's.
Eileen has a very distinctive, 'wardance' that consists of exhaling sharply and changing color. Knowing this, it's not difficult for Raith to notice that something is amiss. He'd already dropped his money on the counter, so he doesn't even think twice about raising his Scotch to his mouth and taking a sip as he turns towards the door. Ah, Emile Danko, a man Raith has never met in person, but one that he knows about all too well.
When Brenda provides Danko with instructions that this is a 'private party,' he offers the man a shrug. Sorry, bro. Can't help ya.
But his attention is only half on Danko. The other half is on Eileen, watched in peripheral vision in the event she decides to do something monumentally stupid like attempt to assault Danko, or offer to do his taxes.
Turning in her barstool to see what Eileen and Brenda are reacting to, Peyton grows a deathly white with fear, as opposed to Eileen's angry pink flush. She turns to look at Liz, then Cat, the two women she knows best and trusts most here, her eyes wide, a tacit plea for them to "Do something" even if the words don't come out of her mouth.
"N-n-no," the frightened clairvoyant whispers, backing off her barstool and bumping into Claire, her hand reaching into her purse to feel for the tiny pistol she carries illegally, or perhaps the pepper spray she carries legally. "Why's he h-here…"
Noriko nods her head a little to Claire as she says, "Okay, I just didn't kno-." The rest of what she was going to say is lost as Peyton begins to panic and her attention turns to loook in the general direction of her, and she frowns. "Who is that," she asks of nobody in particular.
She spots the man's presence, attention drawn by Brenda's statement and the reactions of others, most notably Peyton. Cat reaches with one hand to try clasping hers to instill calm. "It's like I told you," she quietly reminds, "he's just a man. Don't let him have impact in your life through fear." Eye contact is attempted, to catch and hold them as part of her efforts. She thinks to perhaps speak as attorney for the bar, but that would be premature. He's been advised to leave by Brenda, after all, and might do just that.
Eileen's blowing out of breath and movement for — well, mildly befuddled cop instincts tell her it's a gun?? — and Brenda's call bring Elisabeth's eyes around to the entry. And time goes absolutely still for just a moment, her brain refusing to parse the face of the man standing at that door. He is, after all, not someone she's ever seen face-to-face, not really. She only knows his face from a picture, an image on paper. The sudden outpour of adrenaline as her subconscious recognizes the man before her conscious mind even has time to respond, sends her heart rate through the roof. Along with what has come to be a common stress response in moments of extreme anxiety or rage, that subaudible prickly hum of not-sound. And there are plenty of sound waves in this room that suddenly get that bass brush just below the level of human hearing. Elisabeth's glass hits the floor and shatters at the sight, the utter gall of that bastard and the adrenaline surge literally killing her alcohol buzz in that split second. She almost absently puts a hand out to stop Eileen — "Too many people," she hisses urgently — and her cold blue eyes remain level on the man. "You have a two second head start, and then I'm going to cut all the people who want a piece of you loose, Danko."
Drip. Drip drip. Drip. Danko sniffs again, sinuses clagged against the cold while he goes about the process of shrugging out've his overcoat and sinking it onto the upturned pike of a rack near the door. Remnant runoff is rushed off his face and back out of spined grey and white fuzz with a sweep of his hand, and all the while he's about as immune to color changes and sharp inhales and panic as he is — attempts to off him. Apparently.
He doesn't lift his chin until he's actually addressed, lifeless grey eyes seeking Brenda out at a sideways slant in time for a mildly challenging, "You sure I wasn't invited?"
Meanwhile, where most of the others remain quiet at or around the bar, Liz addresses him directly. S'been a while since he's seen her too, and 'til now he's never had the pleasure of looking at her eye to eye. At least, not while she was alive. There's a slanty uplift at the corner of his mouth, a twitch at his brow, and then he looks past her. At everyone else. "S'that a promise?"
Hearing Eileen's reaction coupled with hearing Brenda call to someone, Claire's attention is pulled from that pale patch of skin. Peyton's bump and reaction, makes her look towards the door. Her own breath catches and out of habit, she inches forward — pushing the clairvoyant behind her- to put herself between Danko and the others. Claire: Human Meat Shield. Of course, she doesn't look all that threatening as tiny as she is in her black dress, heels and blond hair done up all nice. Blue eyes watch the older man suspiciously, her only memory of him is that boat battle and…. well.. he was impressive in action. Course, that means he knows what she can do too.
"I think, Danko… you lost that invite long before you shot Gabriel." Claire offers as way of explanation, eyes narrowing. Of course, anything he's done before that is a mystery to her, only knowing what she's been told by others.
Eileen's hand twists free of her coat not with the grip of a gun clasped between her fingers but a long silver handle. A deft snap of her wrist cracks into being a carbon steel blade several inches long — her Batangas knife is a utility tool rather than a weapon intended for combat, but it's sharp and feels electric in the seat of her palm. Given the opportunity, she could inflict a considerable amount of damage to an unarmed opponent.
That said, the likelihood of Danko allowing himself to be vulnerable in addition to exposed is probably about as slim as the amount of time that elapses between Elisabeth's hissed warning and Eileen surging gracelessly forward like a water from a burst dam.
"Somehow, I don't think you got the invitation" Brenda drawls out all brooklyn like as she waves a forefinger in the direction of everyone who's getting all worked up. This includes a pause when Eileen pulls out a knife. "Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure you don't got an invita-" One of the new girls is pointing to something behind the bar that makes the woman nod and look at Danko. Look back behind the bar and snort.
"Boss lady too says you're not invited. So why don't you get the hell out of here before I make you get out of here" Just cause it's a private party doens't mean there's not a bouncer somewhere and the one burly male surfaces from some corner.
If thoughts of defending himself from imminent assault were rushing through Danko's head, he can safely push them aside for the time being. When Eileen charges, she is intercepted by Raith, not because he moves into her path, but because he grasps ahold of her wrist as she passes and, taking advantage of his already displaced center of gravity, forces it down and to the rear, sending the woman into a heels-over head somersault that drops her onto her back. The fact that Raith was able to mitigate some of the injury-producing downward force is impressive. The fact that he did all of this without spilling any of his Scotch is amazing. "Let's try to get a grip here," he says, loud enough for everyone in his vicinity to hear, which is probably everyone; no one tries rushing into a knife-fight only to be defeated on the way there by judo without drawing the attention of the entire room. And then, looking down at Eileen, he mouths a simple message to her when he's sure that her attention is on him- a fact which should not take long, seeing as he is still in control of her wrist.
Not. Here. Wait.
Pushed behind Claire, Peyton is still a good head taller and can see Danko clearly above Claire's blonde head. Peyton's wide dark eyes fix on Danko's face rather like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, her lips parted as she gasps for breath when Eileen makes her way toward him, half hoping the petite woman succeeds. But when Raith intercepts, she shakes her head in protest.
"He'll kill people, he said he would. You can't let him leave!" she hisses to Raith, Cat's words of wisdom obviously not having made their mark.
Noriko blinks while she sees people pulling knives and rushing, only to get their asses kicked as Raith gives a sterling example of Raith-foo. Her eyes looking around, before she asks again, this time with a little more urgency, "Who /is/ that."
Mr. Emile Danko," Cat begins in a voice carrying both seriousness and a hint of boredom, "you are trespassing, sir. You've been instructed to leave, and have not. Further to that, you are actively stalking customers here. I would advise you to leave immediately." She turns toward Brenda then, advising "If Mr. Danko hasn't departed in ten seconds, do contact the police."
Feet are gotten to, she walks over and opens the door, an occasion which also allows her to check for the presence of black vans, ice cream trucks, and suchlike which might carry a backup team. Because she's seen that one before.
Thus far, tension's been a subtle thing in Danko's corner of the bar. But it lines taut through his shoulders and neck when Eileen surges forth in a hiss and a flick of warm steel, readiness manifested in a fall back of his right foot that hardly seems necessary once the Brit's gone ass over tits and landed flat on her back at Raith's liesure. Stark surprise is wiped off his face in the course of a hoarse chuckle. At Claire putting herself in harm's way. At the bartenders threatening to have him thrown out. At Eileen on the ground. At Raith's intervention and a face he doesn't recognize whispering in his ear. At people who have no idea what's going on or who he even is.
Cat's the last to speak and the first to take direct action that doesn't involve trying to kill him. He looks her over once she's got the door open, study carried out with a mechanical, cursory kind of interest ahead of his return, "Ms. Chesterfied." Out on the street, a black sedan with dark windows makes a second pass through the ice and rain, but there are no suspicious trucks. No vans, no snipers, no S U Vs. He watches her checking with a quirk of a brow while cold air leaks in, and finally, finally takes a second full step back towards his coat, and the way out. "Of course. I wouldn't want to be any trouble."
The tiny blonde doesn't relax, even as he prepares to leave, Claire watches him. Raith's rather impressive display is the only time the regenerator looks away from Danko. With a blink she looks from Raith down to Eileen and back up again, brows lifting briefly. Whoa.
Flat on her back with her woolen coat spread out in a fan around her, knees bent and one shoe dangling haphazardly from the tip of her left foot, Eileen sucks in a shuddering breath that sounds rough and wet. This isn't like the padded floor of the Dispensary's basement — the ground here is hard, and the only thing that she can take credit for is maintaining the grip on her knife's handle.
Stopping her wasn't enough. He had to humiliate her in a room full of people. The look of betrayal on her face is tempered only by the physical pain she's experiencing with her arm still wrenched above her head like a small bird with a broken wing, elbow contorted and misshapen.
Whatever modicum of trust existed between them is bleeding away as the the colour in her cheeks does.
Brenda nods to Cat, having dealt with the woman before and reaches for the phone while everyone gets their groove on and some others just lay on the floor like wounded whelps with big knives. There's palpable relief when the man though, seems to be leaving, the last 1 not yet pressed.
Whether Raith feels he went overboard or not is not telegraph by his expression or his actions. He releases Eileen's wrist, either confident that she won't lash out at him or not caring if she does, throws back the rest of his Scotch (and his face instantly contorts into an expression telling everyone that, yes, that was a terrible idea), and throws his gaze back at Danko. Looks like he won't need to play bouncer tonight, but all the same, it's a good thing he's already paid for his one drink, having every intention of copying the bald man and making his exit. Whatever Eileen's actual age, some people still see a kid when they look at her, and no one ever gets away with smacking the 'kid' around.
It's Danko they're asking to leave right now, but asking Raith to leave is likely next on the agenda.
As Danko exits the bar, the pupils in Peyton's eyes immediately swallow up the rest of her irises, until there's only a fine line of brown ringing the black circles, her vision already taking in Danko's point of view as he heads into the cold evening night outside. Those who know her power will know, likely, her intent just by a glance at the girl — she wants to see where Danko is heading, and ensure they are not in any further danger tonight. Those who do not know Peyton probably think the more girl is catatonic, staring into nothing as the combination of fear and alcohol combine into something too difficult to handle. Her hand grips the bar, as she can't see her own surroundings, choosing to be blind to them in order to follow Danko's path.
Noriko watches as Danko heads for the door, and she hmms a little while she sits there, before she says, "Okay… so his name is Emile… now… why do we not like him?" She looks around her, waiting to perhaps see if an answers if forthcoming.
"That's Doctor Chesterfield," Cat corrects mildly as she stands near the door and observes, waiting for the man to be actually departed. Once he is, she intends to lock the exit behind him. While she remains there waiting in frosty politeness, thoughts are processed. Why would Eileen draw a knife and seek to attack him? She was present at the museum and saw how badly it went when he got arrested. Did she forg… Oh. Maybe she did. Shit.
In any case, while he may leave here unharmed, Cat has no intention of simply letting him go. A plan forms, there are requests to make of people present herein. But only after he's gone.
Danko gives Cat a look that's hard to interpret as anything /but/ black humor at her expense while he straightens the lift of his collar and stiffs his lapels down into place. Then he's out into the wintry drizzle, still dripping from water left over from his entrance when he hits the rain anew.
The sedan stops a little ways down the street, brake lights flushing red for as long as it takes him to stride out and lever himself into the back seat. In a matter of seconds, it's gone too and he's sinking tiredly against soft leather to unwind himself from the stiffness in his own spine.
Eileen's knife snaps shut and is thrust back into the interior of her coat as the young woman rolls off her back and onto her side, one hand splaying fingers across the floor to more evenly distribute her weight. The other folds an arm protectively across her middle. Her face obscured by flyaway curls of hair freed from the clasp she wears in it, she isn't looking at anyone anymore — not Danko's retreating back, not Raith.
There's no blood, and when she cradles her arm against her belly she handles it in a stiff way that suggests nothing is dislocated or broken, only sore. Her pride is too, for that matter, but this isn't something that's as readily visible as the gingerness with which she rises, helping herself up.
Well, so much for leaving after Danko. Raith is now stuck in Old Lucy's, either because he's about to get pulled into some master plan, or because they're going to team up, kill him and then chop him into cole slaw. more likely, it's the former.
All the same, he's essentially through with the social part of being present. His empty glass goes on the counter- no refill- and he doesn't even look in Eileen's direction, knowing that's the last thing that she'll want him to be doing right now.
"I'm watching him," Peyton says, her eyes unseeing, for those closest to hear. She chews her lower lip and her brows knit together, worried and fearful and she takes in a shuddering breath. "He's writing down… names and descriptions. Of all of us." She reaches up to push a strand of hair that's tickling one cheek, shoving it behind her ear. "Can't… see." Her pupils shrink, eyes turning brown once more before the pupils shoot out again.
"Watching the driver now. Claire, write down the streets I say." She will give turn by turn directions, a walking Google Maps, of Danko's path to his apartment building, and the address at which he lives.
Noriko listens to Peyton as she sits there, before she says, "Well, that's a useful power, not at all like mine. I can only make water move around. Guess its good for if someone gets thirsty." She shrugs her shoulders and then looks at Peytons glass of water, seeming to debate something for a moment, before looking back over at Brenda and wondering, "Could I please get a glass of water?"
She isn't certain Noriko, with her memory taken, won't tell the wrong person what happened here, that threats and an attempted knife assault on a man who made no such acts himself took place. Cat can only hope she won't. Likewise, she hopes Brenda and other bar staff will also keep silent. Jensen is glanced at briefly and, while she can't speak for Brenda, she isn't planning to ask that Raith depart. Her eyes next settle on Peyton as she speaks, detailing her actions and not needing to be asked.
"Eileen," she calmly requests, "would you also seek to track his path? It would be very interesting to learn where he goes, who he sees, and what he does. To discover if he has been or is building a new cell of Humanis First. This wasn't the time or place to take him on in any case," she opines, "in part because the man is known to have backup. Assault weapons, rpgs, heavier stuff. We'd have quickly been outnumbered and outgunned. I've seen it happen."
For Noriko's benefit, she elaborates. "That was Emile Danko, former head of a Humanis First cell. He kills people with SLC abilities for fun. But I think the only reason he was here today was to intimidate and draw reaction. Sadly, we didn't all keep our heads and not give him the satisfaction. We can talk about him, and other things, more later, Noriko."
After speaking her mind, she takes up her pint and approaches Peyton. "This is stout. Try it, maybe?" Like nothing even happened.
There is a blink and Claire looks down at herself. Write with what? A glance goes to Cat.. "You should be able to remember it all, hmm Cat? I didn't exactly come packing for note writing." Claire smiles a bit, glancing around at the others, before moving back to the bar to pick up her coke again.
Incredulity paints Eileen's features stark and white. It's not that Cat's suggestion to observe is unfamiliar; while with the Vanguard, gathering intelligence on possible targets was one of her primary responsibilities as Kazimir Volken's personal informant. It's applying this strategy to Emile Danko that makes her bristle.
"You had the opportunity to kill him at Grand Central Terminal," she bites off, voice clipped and terse, "and you had the opportunity here. The longer you keep putting it off, the more people are going to die, and the more likely it is that he's going to do exactly what you're afraid of. Finish this."
Raith is left, at this point, with little to say on the subject. How does one elaborate when everything that needs to be said has been said? As such, he keeps quiet and hopes not to draw attention to himself. Humanis First! is his problem, sure. But Emile Danko, specifically, is not.
Peyton's brows knit together and she shakes her head at Cat. "Drink screws me up," she says, reaching out a blind hand to push away the glass that Cat presses to her. "He's pulling up to an apartment building now." That close? Her eyes return for a moment to their normal appearance, before the pupils widen again. She winces, the exertion of her task, perhaps coupled by the alcohol in her system, causing her pain. She murmurs a number of an address for the building. "Can I have my water? Does anyone have aspirin?"
Noriko looks at Cat for a couple of moments before she says, "Sure… where do you want to meet to talk then?" She nods her head to what she is told he does, and she closes her eyes for a moment, massaging at them with two fingers. Once her drink is brought to her, Noriko opens her eyes again and then looks at it, before the liquid starts to raise up and into her mouth. Who needs straws?
Nothing further is said regarding Emile Danko's continued life, Cat has no intention of getting into a debate with Eileen or anyone else here. She's spoken her piece. Raith is glanced at briefly, then attention returns to Peyton. All information offered is duly recorded, she'll write it all down herself and distribute later. "I do," she tells the clairvoyant regarding aspirin. "In fact, I've a place for you to crash close by."
And for Noriko, she replies "I'll be in touch. Just tell me your address and number." Should she collect that, her intention is possibly to depart.
The pint glass is raised, she seeming to make a quiet and private toast before turning toward the door. "Here's to you, Mr. Redbird."