Family

Participants:

helena_icon.gif peter_icon.gif

Scene Title Family
Synopsis Peter and Helena discuss matters of family over breakfast.
Date September 11, 2008

Condemned Tenement: Rooftop

While some parts of the roof are less structurally sound then others, someone seems to have sorted out which areas are dangerous and blocked them off. Some overhangs have been jury-rigged up to block a direct aerial view that gives definite indication of the presence of squatters - a rooftop garden, clearly meant to provide sustenance rather than aesthetic. Tubs full of dirt are situated to take best advantage of the light despite the overhangs meant to keep them from prying eyes. Tomatoes, beans, carrots, even potatoes and onions and chili peppers are carefully tended, little laminated labels indicating what each row of planting is. There's a seperate section for a small variety of herbs, and a sole small window sill style planter that houses the one concession to beauty; a row of sunflowers, and even these can be harvested for their seeds. Here and there decrepit lawn furniture has been scattered to give the illusion of abandonment; a stone bench here, an ironwork table with chairs there, one of those latticed metal fold-up chairs leaned at an awkward angle in a corner. Aside from the overhangs, the rest of the roof is open to the sky, providing a view of the city and the span of rooftops surrounding the tenement.


Morning sunlight filters down across the rooftop, and the smell of bacon and eggs fills the air. The kitchen was empty, though, but the signs that someone had cooked eas readily evident. With most of PARIAH out working their day-to-day jobs to maintain a sense of normalcy, it falls to the one person who doesn't have an alternative to his lifestyle to have been the chef of the hour. Seated on the brick ledge that wraps around the roof, Peter stares out at the morning skyline with a plate of food on his lap, contentedly eating in the morning sun, his wrinkled black button-down shirt left open, blowing in the gentle and cool breeze, bare feet dangling over the edge of the roof.

There is something serene about his expression, and judging from his clear the weather is, several burdens look to have been lifted off of his shoulders. He is, finally, taking the advice given to him, and permitting himself a modicum of happiness. For, after all, these moments may be his last chance to experience them.

There's the sound of a yawn behind him, and he'll find Helena in the doorway that opens out to the roof. She's barefoot despite the morning chill, in a pair of shorts and a pj tank with a drawing of a baby chicken on it that declares 'chicks rule'. "Hey." she greets, and moves to sit next to him, letting her legs dangle on the ledge. "You know, there are colors besides black and white." she teases, indicating his shirt.

Peter arches a brow as he looks over to Helena, smirking slightly as he eyes the decal on her tanktop, "Yeah," His eyes lift up to hers, "There are." He doesn't say much more, idly pushing around his scrambled eggs. There's an aroma coming from them, italian seasoning — the kind you'd put on a pizza — in the eggs, salt and pepper as well. "I don't know, I think black kind've works for me." He notes with a grin, looking back out towards the city again. "You'd look good in black," He adds, trying not to let a goofy smile cross his lips, though he mostly fails in that attempt at restraint, "Yoou hungry?" He motions towards his plate with his form.

"You just want me to look all goth emo chicky for you. I'm onto you, Petrelli." She steals his fork, scoops up some egg and shovels it into her mouth, all while maintaining wide eyed innocence in her expression. "Yup." she answers to his question.

Peter laughs, shaking his head as Helena snatches the fork. Peter eyes her for a time, one brow raising, "I think it'd be cute, I could get you the clothes — that's no problem." He rolls one shoulder, motioning to his plate with one hand as a bite of his eggs lift up off of the surface and flot over to his mouth, bitten right out of the air. "So, we're actually doing this tonight, hmm?" He looks thoughtful about the operation, "Did you think of where we'd do our work?"

Helena nods. "There's this billboard on the edge of Chinatown, on the border between it and Little Italy. We won't be going until it's late late early, if you know what I mean."

"A billboard, huh?" Peter nods slowly, considering how that would look, "Just one spot, or are we going to hit the entire area around it? I mean, I could probably do the billboard myself and not get spotted… Doesn't sound like a whole group's worth of effort." Watching Helena, Peter leans to the side, not towards but away from the girl, turning to the side to shift how he sits on the brick ledge, one leg now dangling off of the building and the other bent, one foot placed firmly on the concrete top of the ledge in front of him.

Helena lets both her feet dangle. "Well, the plan is to shut down the electricity on it and use our spot lights. The roads will be empty. If we get a good one going, then we can manage some walls for some quick scrawl stuff." She cocks her head. "It doesn't always have to be you alone, Peter. Quit putting yourself up like you're the only one who can take a risk." She smiles though, to gentle her chastisement. She adds with a sigh, "That's part of what I need to talk to Claire about."

Peter reaches over and taps Helena on the nose with two fingers, "Hey, I only say that because I'm the one who can turn invisible." He cracks a smile, "Why have all of us up there who can get spotted, when I can invisible-man my way around. We could have Daniel do some graffiti inside of buildings, or in places a person can't normally get to without flying or floating." Peter tilts his head to the side, "Optimal use of abilities, right?" He purses his lips when the topic of Claire comes up, and looks out over the city. "Don't be too hard on her… She's… kind've going through a lot right now. I had it out with her last night — shouting, crying, hugs." He cracks a smile, "I think she's going to be a little better. But, I definately know she'd like to talk to you."

"So she can accuse me of wanting to get into your pants?" Helena's tone is wry. "What we're dealing with, the way things are, it's good to be angry about that. We need to be angry about that. But Claire just seems angry about everything lately."

Peter cracks a smile, a little shyly, and then looks back to Helena from his plate, "She's upset at a lot of things, but mostly I think she's blaming herself for how things went down two years ago. She has a lot of the same scars I do…" Peter furrows his brow, looking at Helena intently, "She just doesn't show them in the same ways I do. I worry about her, and I worry about how my being gone for so long affected her." He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck anxiously, "I think, though," Peter frowns, "The biggest issue might be the one with Noah. It kills me every time I go to see him, and he asks about how Claire's doing…"

Helena looks out at the skyline at that. "I don't understand why she won't see him." she says. For the first time in say, ever, Peter hears a touch of bitterness in her voice. "If my father loved me like that…things would have been different."

Tensing his brow, Peter seems surprised at the shift in Helena's tone of voice. He picks up the mostly clear plate of food and shifts around to leg both of his legs hang off of the roof again, placing the plate on the opposite side of himself as he scoots over towards Helena, resting a hand on her shoulder, "Claire's got her reasons, and she's the kind've girl who has to come to terms with these things on her own. Noah knows that, he's trying to be patient." He smiles, a troubled smile.

"You aren't the only one who things like that," Peter speaks more quietly now, "My dad," He tries to ease Helena's mind, a sympathetic story to distract her from her own troubles, "He was never really that impressed with me. Wanted me to become a lawyer like him." He frowns softly, eyes still focused on Helena. "My brother was his favorite, I guess the same could be said of my mother…" He looks away at that, "Family is a hard issue with a lot of us I guess." Peter's hand remains on Helena's shoulder, and he squeezes it gently as he turns back to her, watching and listening.

Helena studies him thoughtfully. "I could see you as a lawyer." she says. "But not the kind your father would probably want. You'd be the kind who'd do family law or trying to make things better, like in the ACLU. Which would have probably made your family crazy." She smiles faintly, but doesn't elaborate on her own background.

Peter laughs and shakes his head, seeing the evasion he doesn't press further, "Yeah, my father would've hated that." His hand slowly moves off of her shoulder to occupy the space between them, "My mom, I don't know, she's more supportive of my decisions, but I always felt there was an alterior motive behind them," He frowns, "Seems I was right." Shaking his head, Peter looks back up to Helena, offering her a warm smile. "But enough of our folks," He says with what could only be a cheerful expression, "You going to talk to Claire before tonight?"

Helena was going to ask another question, but was savvy enough to realize a change of topic was desired. "If there's time. If not, it'll have to be tomorrow."

Peter nods, watching Helena for a moment, then just nods once more, "I think she'd appreciate it." He looks up towards the sky, "Told her I'd wake her up around noon, actually," He leans over towards Helena, "Might not be bad if you go do that instead, catch her while she's just waking up maybe? Besides, I think she could use the company," Peter hesitates, "Not that I don't want to keep you all to myself for the rest of the morning while everyone else is out…" Then, thoughtfully, "…I will, though, if given the opportunity."

Helena hehs. "If I do, I better have coffee in hand. She's dangerous when she first wakes up."


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September 10th: Push and Pull
Previously in this storyline…
Push and Pull

Next in this storyline…
Wish to Forget, Remember to Learn

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September 11th: Not As Planned
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