Participants:
| Scene Title | 30 Digit Delight |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Felix has some presents for Minea on her little personal project. |
| Date | August 26, 2009 |
Cathedral of St. John the Divine
The largest Gothic cathedral in the world, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine remains partially unfinished to this day, despite its construction having begun in 1892 - true to form for buildings of its type. Nonetheless, it is a grand and imposing sight; possessing the characteristic grand arches, pointed spires, and beautiful stained glass windows, including a large and striking Rose window. Where the walls aren't covered with old and meticulously preserved tapestries, they are often ornamented.
Guided tours are offered six days out of the week. Services are open to all. Since the bomb, the main nave is open at all but the latest hours, though the smaller subject-specific chapels close in the evening. The cathedral is also a site for major workshops, speakers, and musical events - most especially the free New Year's Eve concert, which has been held without fail each year since the bomb.
St. John's has long been a center for public outreach and civic service events, but since the bomb, those have become an even greater part of its daily affairs. Services include a men's shelter, a twice-weekly soup kitchen, walk-in counseling, and other programs besides. These are open to everyone - non-Evolved, unregistered Evolved, registered Evolved… the philosophy is that they're all children of God, and that's what matters.
It is the wee hours of the night. But that makes it all the better for a private meeting. And one of the few buildings that'd be open at this house, that isn't the neon-lit expanse of the Owl. Fel's sitting in one of the pews, a few rows back from the altar. There's little by way of light, save for a few vigil candles flickering before the insipid smiles of saints in niches, and indirect spots lighting the crucifix above the altar. He's in t-shirt and jeans and jacket, the latter really only to hide the gun. His face remains taped, and his expression is weary.
Getting out of Fort Hero at god awful hours sucks. There's the curfew, and the stopping, flashing the badge, muttering about people who can't do things at sane hours. Sometimes - sometimes - Minea actually does sleep.
Right now, she's not. Jeans, sweater, sneakers and a stretchy headband that works at keeping her hair off her face is what Felix gets when the brunette, bearing only two guns this time around, settles down in the pew beside him.
"Better be good Kitty cause Iwas dreaming that Brad Pitt divorced Angelina and was gonna be my lover"
He may be mostly cured of his melancholy. But the mood swings still remain, in a way. There's the wet glitter of borderline mania in the blue eyes, as he looks to her, and a fox's grin on his face. "It is," he says, conspiratorially. "Remember our conversation about that particularly persistent spook? A source of mine got a simcard from his phone. I pass these numbers on to you," He proffers her a scrap with three names and numbers: Autumn, Director, MuQian. "Be very, very careful how you work 'em, lest it get back to him."
The scrap of paper is studied like it's some really strange artifact that fell from the sky. When her fingers close on it, much the same reverence is offered. There's a glance between Felix, then the paper and back again. "Dare I ask who this source is?"
He lifts a finger to his lips, looks wry. And then says, in all apparent seriousness, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"
Minea shakes her head. "Boss is keeping this all to the side, wants me to focus on Mr. Emile Danko. But i'll look into these numbers, these people" Minea looks down at the digits. "General Autumn, Director.. I'd assume is Sarisa Kershner? MuQian… " That name is not familiar. "His wife?"
"That's fine. I am intensely interested in Mr. Danko, and ….I shudder to think what he wants with me," he says, simply. "General Autumn. Sarisa Kershner? I don't know," he says, spreading his hands. He's keeping his voice barely above a whisper, though presumably neither Jesus on the cross nor the Virgin Mary at His feet will be awoken by any noise.
"MuQian?" Hope, pray. Maybe she can dig up who this MuQian is on her own.
He spreads his hands. "I don't know." He should…..and doesn't know it. Considering it's her reconstruction of his heart currently beating in his chest.
And then, his expression shifts, slowly. "No. No, that isn't true. I do know someone by that name. A healer. Or more accurately, a resurrector." He lays a hand over his heart, unthinkingly.
"So a general, a CIA operative probably and.. a healer… probably from his country of origin if one goes by the name" Minea muses. The piece of paper is tucked away safe and sound.
He nods, looks to her, blue eyes wide and solemn. "It gets weirder and weirder, doesn't it?"
"One big rabbit hole. One of these days, i'm going to retire to france and just screw Cabana boy's on the beach" There's a soft laugh and a shake of Minea's head.
"I keep threatening to do just that," Fel says, slouching down on the polished wood of the pew.
"Run away with me then. We'll turn in our badges tomorrow and i'll book us first class flights to France, forge us some Visa's" She winks.
His grin fades, slows. "I…can you get me forged documents?" It's apparently a spontaneous, unconsidered question. But he is quite serious.
"Christ Kitty, leaky mind. No, I didn't make Edward Dantes from pre-made ID's" There's a raise of her brows. "Oh how quickly they forget"
"Fake American. Fake Russian. Fake Canadian." Fel looks embarrassed. "Oh, god. It's been too many hits to the head. You're right. I don't know. I don't….I just have this feeling, and I can't explain it. I may need 'em."
"Canadian Russian and American. Get me the names that you want on each and i'll see what I can get made for you. «Lucky for you, my Russian is pretty good»" Minea rises from the pew, stretching.
He waves a hand at her, looking embarrassed. «Thank you. I owe you. Yet again.»
«Someday I'll call it all in Kitty. Night»
Out the door the Company agent slips, retreating to outside and to leave the FBI agent alone again.