Participants:
| Scene Title | Gotta Run Somewhere |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Melissa brings home pizza, and Edgar runs off. |
| Date | September 11, 2010 |
The house has been mostly empty for most of the day, Melissa out doing Melissa-type things. And when she comes home, she doesn't seem like she's in the best of moods. In fact, she's a bit surly. But she has takeout! Pizza this time, three of them. And a brown paper bag in the other hand. She comes inside, heading to the kitchen to dump the boxes on the table, then moves to the stairs to yell up towards whoever's home. "I brought pizza! Come and get it before I get drunk and eat it all!"
Which explains the brown bag. Tequila. The perfect thing for forgetting a guy climbing out a window to escape you. Really. Therapist approved!
The house hasn't quite been empty though, for most of the day Edgar's been skulking around trying to get his bearings in this new environment of woman. That being said, it doesn't need to be explained why most of that time has been spent in the bathroom. The cupboards and drawers were dumped out earlier as the ex-carnie explored all the nitfy things that house people have. One of the more curious inventions of the household? The tampon.
When Melissa's call drifts up the stairs, he's just figured out what they're used for and he peeks out of the doorway to the landing. There's the end of a cotton bit and a string hanging from his nose. "Pizza?" It's the heavenly call for men, especially when it's free.
Completely forgetting the feminine product in his nostril, there's the rush of wind and Melissa finds herself in smiling company. That smile turns to an embarrassed grimace as the man tugs on the string and disappears into to the nerest garbage, only to reappear a split second later with a plate. "Found yer plugs. Nifty invention them things, be 'andy fer a broken nose."
Glancing over, Melissa goes completely still at the sight, however brief, and she very nearly drops the tequila in her hand. "Edgar…dear. Those are not for broken noses. They're plugs alright, but they don't go up your nose. They go up a snatch," she says, shaking her head. "They're for women when they're raggin'. Though I guess they could actually be used for a broken nose if you absolutely had to…"
She shrugs and plops down in a chair, opening one of the boxes to grab a slice. "Been exploring though, huh? You meet any of the others? There's Ling, Tony and Faron, when they're here. Nice people, though Faron's a little…off…and Ling can be a lil' cold until she gets to know you."
The knife thrower's expression is completely neutral as Melissa gives her explanation of the little things. After blinking a few times, he waits as she grabs her own slice of pizza and then liberates three from the box for himself. They're arranged on the plate in a messy stack and end up teetering off the edge when he zips to the other side of the room to claim his own seat.
"Uh… no didn' meet anyone." Nothing is said in regards to the tampons, in Edgar's mind the incident is wiped away and never to be spoken of again. Pushing his food back up before it falls all over the floor, he grabs one slice and starts taking large bites out of it. He barely takes the time to chew and painful swallow after painful swallow of large chunks disappear for good.
"Really? Damn. Was hoping you would. Especially Ling," Melissa says sighing softly. As she takes a bite, and chews her food, she watches him, her face showing little of her thoughts on his eating habits. "So where you originally from, anyway? Before Moab and the goverment got in the way, I mean?"
She gets up for a moment, grabbing a couple of bottles of water and two shot glasses. One of each is offered to Edgar, and the bottle of tequila is set in the middle of the table. "Oh, and before it comes up in a bad way…Sort of a bit OCD when it comes to neatness. I try not to go into people's rooms and force cleaning on them though. Only done it once. Honest. No snooping either."
"All over," it's a rather vague answer, Edgar's really good at being vague. From his accent, it's quite easy to tell that he's from somewhere in the British Isles, but it's gotten so muddy of the years it's hard to tell from exactly where. He's already finished his first slice when Melissa busies herself with the liquor and the water. That's eyed with just a little suspicion.
"Yer expectin' me teh drink tha'?" He croaks with his mouth partially full. One more pained swallow and he leans forward to take a long swig of his water.
Melissa shrugs. "I don't expect you to, no. I was just getting you a glass in case you wanted some. I don't force alcohol on anyone. Hell, for all I know you're a reforming alcoholic so one drink would be bad. Besides, I did get the water too," she points out with a smile. She does pour herself a glass though, tossing it back and repeating it with a second.
"Not big on questions, huh? Should I avoid asking too many of them then? At least of a personal nature? Actually, scratch that. No personal questions. You might climb out a window too, and I'd never catch you. Though I do know a couple other speedsters…" she says with a wry smile.
"Crawl out a window? Too? You 'ad some'un do tha'?" The carnie is rather amazed at that little revelation and the surprise on his face is all too clear on that point. "Was i'..?" And he waves his water bottle in the direction of the stairs before taking another pull from the bottle.
It's fairly evident that the young woman seems to need someone to talk to and as much as talking give the man the heebie jeebies, he leans over and sets the water down. "I'll 'ave a couple. Can' le' you drink alone, wouldn' be very cordial fer a house guest." With that, he pours himself a couple of ounces, raises the little glass for a toast and gulps it down in one shot.
There's a little 'heh' of a laugh and Melissa shrugs. "You're not really a house guest. You're a roomie. At least for as long as you wanna stay. And yeah, out a window and down the fire escape. Because I was trying to help him," she says, shaking her head before shooting a glare in the direction of the living room, and the orchid sitting on a table by itself. "Stupid jackass. He can just get himself shot then. And no more attic for him to stay in," she mutters, turning back to the table and Edgar.
"You'll get to meet one of the speedsters I mentioned on Monday. Or at least you should. Just…well…she got kind of irked when she found out she wasn't the only one, wanted to be special. So don't spoil that for her? She's a sweet girl, and she's saved my life a couple of times."
"Spoil i'? All 'cause I can run? Pff.." The disgusted little puff of air between his teeth and lips thankfully doesn't include little bits of food. Food that's almost completely gone. Edgar just shakes his head and glowers a little bit at the thought. "Runnin' ain' all I can do. It ain' who I am." With all the food on his plate gone, Edgar places it gently on the table andleans back in his chair.
"Problem wi' 'elpin' people is they need teh want i'. If they don' they jus' get angry an' .. well.. apparently jump ou' windows." The carnie tosses her a bit of a grin and reaches to pour them both another shot. This time, he waits for her to take hers before claiming his own.
"Yeah, I know. And it's not all she can do either. But…I don't know," Melissa admits with a shrug, picking up her glass and draining it. She's gotten one piece of pizza down, and seems content with that. "And you're definitely right on getting angry." A pause, then, "You're a guy." Master of the Obvious. "Why do guys feel like they have to protect chicks? Do dangly bits come with super powers or something and you're just hiding it from all of woman kind?"
Edgar's in the middle of his shot and nearly chokes when Melissa gives him her theory about men and their white knight syndromes, "Uhh… no. Likely jus' 'cause yer so … dainty. You look like you migh' break." His voice is a little squeaky from almost drowning in a mouthful of tequila and doesn't deepen again until he clears his throat loudly into his fist.
"'Righ' then, uhm.. So this bloke, this 'guy', wha' makes 'im so importan' teh help?" His low brow raises a little in curiosity as he meets her eyes with his dark blue ones.
He gets stared at. For a long moment, before Melissa's forehead meets the table and she groans. "Christ. Am I forever to be judged because I'm small and blonde?" she mutters. "I've survived more than most men, yet I'm dainty? What a load of horseshit." She lifts her head enough to give him a glare. "So are you saying that you would force protection on me? Better to tell me now and get it out of the way."
She reaches over, pouring another glass and downing it. "He's a friend. That's enough. And he helped me when I needed it. Add the two together and it'd be shitty of me not to try to help him. Even if he is becoming an asshole."
Giving Melissa a shrug, Edgar's expression remains somewhere between curious and sympathetic. "Naw, if yer in a group like Messiah, I think you can handle a li'l bi' more than the average man. Who knows? You migh' even be more'v a man than yer window jumper."
The water that was on the table appears in the man's hand without it looking like he actually grabbed it. "Teh be perfectly hones' wi' you, I don' think it's a crap deal teh no' 'elp some'un if they don' want i'. Friend or no'… I learned tha' lesson so 'ard i' go' me tossed in Moab."
"Yeah, I know. Which is why I think I'm gonna just…let him be. I mean it's not like I have his phone number or anything, and he won't be back to his apartment, I'm sure. So fuck him. He knows how to get a hold of me," Melissa says, shrugging and pouring a fourth drink.
"What was it that got you thrown in Moab? Hopefully it wasn't as stupid as the reason for me. I just existed. Stupid fucking government pricks," she says, sneering and shaking her head. "And thanks. About the whole handling a bit more. It's not easy being one of the few girls in a group like that. Or being a tough girl at all, for that matter. Unless you're some Brunhilde butch chick."
"DHS came teh ge' a member of my fam'ly… After 'e was turned over by 'is brother. I stayed be'ind when they were gatherin' us up… In case .. " The man swallows audibly and then turns his head to scratch at his cheek, not letting Melissa see the expression on his face. "It don' matter. Moab's gone, I'm ou' ev'n if I'm no' free. I can run again."
With a rather loud harrumph, Edgar takes a deep breath before angling his head back toward the table and reaching to pour another shot. His sobreity at the moment seems to bother him a little less than the things he was about to divulge. It's also a little easier to handle at the moment.
That emotion, whatever it is, has Melissa watching him until he takes that next shot. "That seriously sucks. I've never been close to my family, but for one to turn over another?" She shakes her head. "It's pathetic. My…a kid who lived here until a few weeks ago. His parents kicked him out of the house when he was sixteen, when he came down with the evo flu, since it outted him. Ever since I found out I've wanted to inflict some serious pain on them. I think I wanna do the same to your relative's brother. Family, real family, should stick together, no matter what."
There's a clunk as the glass is placed back down on the table and Edgar just stares at Melissa for a long while. "No." He intones, the word is spoken like a command. "'E's goin'teh answer fer wha' 'e did, but no' by your 'and. 'E'll answer to the rest of the fam'ly, when we come back together. The one 'e turned over, 'e's still ou' there some'ere. 'E'll put i' all to righ', 'e was always righ'. You can' trust no one who ain't like us."
Slowly, the carnie gets up from his chair and looks down at Melissa. "I don' wan'teh be like yer window jumper, I ain't runnin' away from you. Bu' righ' now… I gotta run somewhere."
Melissa smiles wryly and shakes her head. "I get it. Daph likes running too. Oh, and I got a key made for you. Take it with you. In case I'm in bed before you get back," she says, digging it out of her pocket and sliding it over. "Have a good run, Edgar."