Participants:
| Scene Title | I won |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Agent Sawyer and Agent Winters have a little conversation, in which Brian tries to find out about Veronica, and fails. Oh and then he has a seizure thing. |
| Date | March 3 2009 |
Description of location, if any.
With his legs dangling over the arm, Brian is half laying on the couch, his head tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling. One arm dangling off the side of it. He has been taking many a shower to try and get the blue out of his hair. It is somewhat faded now, his normal color almost overcoming the blue tint. Agent Winters is chillin' his eyes watching whatever random DVD he had slid into the TV just for the noise. It just so happens to be Shawshank Redemption.
It is late afternoon and the man makes popping noises with his lips. Before giving a heavy sigh. He lifts his head up for a moment to see if he can find the woman who lives in the apartment with him. "Baby?" He calls out, before letting his head slump back onto the couch.
She's in the bedroom, sprawled on the bed with the laptop, going through various government files on the Triads, Deckard, whatever she can find. When he calls her, she heaves a sigh and comes to the doorway, peeking out on him. Her own hair is simply darker than usual, not quite as black as it was the other night, and the pink extensions have been unclipped, so she looks mostly like herself. The dark locks make her face seem a little paler, and her eyes are their usual coppery warm brown, as the contacts have been removed. She wears a Berkeley sweatshirt and jeans, her feet in moccasin slippers. "Yes?" she asks, brows arched.
"Come watch a movie with me." He invites. Pointing to the little spot open on the couch where his head rests. Then he wets his lips, considering she probably won't want to do that. "If you do, I won't pull the extra clingy boyfriend move again." Unless she deserves it, of course. By dying his hair purple or something nefarious li ke that. "Have you seen Shawshank?" Winters asks after glancing at the TV to find out what he's actually watching.
She sighs and glances at the clock. The various leads they'd followed up on, on company time, had not led to either Deckard's or Case's doorways. "We don't have time to sit and watch movies," she says, but she comes and sits on the other side, pushing his feet off the couch. "You're going to get the couch all dirty. White couch — what were they thinking?" she grumbles. "I've seen it. One of Stephen King's best stories," she adds.
Frowning as she moves his feet off he goes to sit up with a little sigh. "I took a shower. It's not like my feet are dirty." He mutters. Brian sits up straight and goes to scoot over closer to Veronica. Leaning back he takes a little yawn. "No time. We have plenty of time." The Agent murmurs giving a little grin over at her. "So. Baby. Tell me about yourself." He says with a amicable smile.
"My name," she says, giving him a sidelong glance through a veil of lashes, "is Veronica. Not Baby." She props her own bare feet on top of the coffee table. Her pedicured feet sport a dark red polish on the toenails. "There's not much to tell. The usual. High school, college, Company. Lived in California all my life. Moved here. Ta-da… that's it," she says in a wary voice.
"And we don't have plenty of time. God knows what could happen with Case out there… you saw him. He can't control his power, and it's going to get someone innocent killed."
He grins a little bit. "Ve-ron-ica." He repeats as if saying it for the first time. "It's long. Don't you have a nickname or something?" Winters asks. Leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. He glances over at her with a little frown. "That's it? You've got to have more than that. What's your family like?" As far as Case goes? The subject will be avoided for now, on Winters part.
"Tons of them. Not many I like though," she says in regards to the nickname. "Nicki, Ronnie, not so much. Vee, I can stand." She hops up and heads into the kitchen area, opening the refrigerator, closing the refrigerator. Opening a cupboard. Closing a cupboard. Getting some ice. Opening some soda. Pouring some soda. Back to the refrigerator. Apparently she's avoiding subjects as well. She returns with two glasses of Diet Coke (the only thing in the refrigerator) and hands him one, sitting back in her corner of the couch.
"So. I'm not used to these 'find these impossible people to find' cases, I admit. I'm used to 'here, go get this person at this address' sort of job, where I'm not dealing with someone who's already been in the facilities and broken out, you know? Just in case you think I'm a horrible senior partner."
"Nicki." Brian repeats, sounding a little happy about that one. But then she says she doesn't like it. Fff. Vee. Eh. A little better. "Veeee." He murmurs, taking he coke from her with a little smile. "Thanks." He says under his breath. Though he moves himself so that he's facing her, tucking one leg under him to watch her as he takes a sip from his soda. Slurping it in. He's always slurped at soda.
"Of course you're not a horrible senior partner." He did get to save her life. Something he'll tuck in his pocket and pull out should she ever get pissed at him for screwing up. So that's valuable enough. "We'll find him." He pauses with a grin. "Baby."
"You are exasperating," Veronica says with a roll of her eyes and a chuckle. "We're not going to find him just sitting around here watching movies, though. And … I doubt he's just going to wander into our laps again, even if we hang out in Chinatown twenty-four hours a day. If he's smart he's far from there, and away from the Chinese mafia." She pauses. "Deckard might, though. We need to get to him to wipe his memory of our part in that little escapade," she says with a shrug, sipping her soda without making so much as a noise.
"Wipe his memory?" Brian asks sharply, "What do you mean wipe his memory?" The young man asks, his brows creasing tightly. They can do that? That's strange. They can just take memories away like that. Odd that he also had a memory problem when—
Speaking of wandering into laps. Brian's eyes suddenly go very wide, as his head sweeps around his eyes looking as if they were taking in all new surroundings. He stares back at Veronica as if never seeing before, until convulsing forward.
Winters falls limp onto Veronica's lap, though his face shows a great amount of strain as if he were currently going under great physical difficulty. But all he's doing is falling onto her and laying there..
Veronica shrugs. "Some agent they call the Haitian—" she begins to explain, but then suddenly he's convulsing, falling, collapsing on her. "Brian!" she gasps, hand going to his wrist to assess his pulse, see if it's weak or rapid. "Can you hear me?" Her hand moves to his, squeezing it, as she stares down into his pain-stricken face and wide eyes. "What is it?"
Eyes going wide, Brian barely makes any movement except for on his face. His features tight as if he were currently in a fight. The back of his head in the lap of the woman he makes no words. No movement with his arms. His pulse is normal, his breathing almost normal. He just can't or won't move, his eyes partially glazed over as if he wasn't able to see the woman.
"Dammit," she swears, wriggling out from under him and resting his head on top of one of the couch cushions so his neck is supported. She moves swiftly to her purse, halfway across the room, and punches in numbers swiftly.
"Goodman… it's Sawyer. Winters is having some sort of seizure or something. He suddenly just collapsed and is staring and not talking back to me. He's not moving, but his breathing and pulse seem fine. Just… catatonic." Lightbulb. Like she was the other night. "Do you want someone to come get him? I'm assuming 9-1-1 isn't an option."
"It's okay." Comes the soft groan from the couch, Brian raising one wavering little hand up off the couch but it drops as soon as it is raised. No energy to keep it aloft. His voice sounds like he just took a little visit to hell and came right on back. Blood leaks down out of his nose onto his upper lip. The man lets his head slump to the side to watch Veronica weakly.
"There's another me." He reports softly. "He just tried to take me over, control me. We had a… fight." The man says, not sure if this is the right word, but he goes with it anyways. A shaky breath is taken.
"I won."
 March 3rd: Chunky Salsa |
 March 3rd: Just A Job |