Participants:
| Scene Title | A Beast Another Day |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Brian isn't as sneaky as he thinks he is. |
| Date | February 19, 2011 |
A few hours have passed since Colette and Tasha came to visit. And despite rumors in meta that this might not be a happy reunion, it's turning out at least to not be as morose a meeting as some might have thought. The cellar is large but mostly clean now, thanks to the many hands of Brian, Koshka, Samara and the rest of the crew. The cobwebs have come down and now the empty expanse would usually just be filled with silence and darkness. However with the arrival of guests, Brian has made the cellar a little more welcoming.
Having carried a whole couch down, two Brians had set it up against the far wall. A space heater set in front of it as well as a factory construction light laid on the ground. A portable iPod player sits next to the couch without much use thus far. Despite the unfavorable circumstances around them, the Lighthouse Two occupants have attempted to make something like a party. A few unopened bottles of wine sit on the ground next to the couch. Just in case.
The kids have been having a hard time with the transition, with most of their adopted family suffering from the flu, the kids haven't been having the greatest last two days. Lily, Lance, and Joe have recently run up the stairs with Tasha while Brian leads Samara by the hand down them. A light smile given to the Colette on the couch as they descend.
"Colette seemed very surprised when I said I had a fiancee." Brian murmurs to the woman as he leads her down.
"This is Colette. She used to help out with the Lighthouse back in the day. And live there. She's a good friend of mine. And I haven't seen her in a long time. Colette, this is Samara. My future wife."
The descent down to the cellar has Sam balancing precariously, semi-distractedly as she admires the cellar once again, but balance is one of the things she does have talent for. Her usually jovial smile takes on a lopsided quality complete with a tight crinkle of her nose at Brian's comment. "Why?" her head tilts as she considers, "Because you were engaged before? Or does she think you're just that undateable?"
She smirks at her question, too satisfied with her teasing, particularly in light of general fatigue
The introduction, however, warrants a broader grin and a generally easier demeanour, "Hi… Yeah, I'm Samara, but please call me Sami or Sam. Honestly, no one really calls me Samara anymore. Good to meet you Colette."
Swinging her legs off of the sofa, Colette sheds her leather jacket, finally acclimating to the temperature of the basement. The heavy, fire damaged coat is thrown down over the cushions beside her, and booted feet boost her up to stand, wiping her hands across her thighs to ensure they're presentably clean before she makes approach over to Brian's wife-to-be.
"Hey, ah— no it's— " Too awkward to talk about Colette's last attempt at working with Brian's relationships. That sort of blew up in her face. "It's nothing, just weird t'think about Bri' being engaged, y'know?" Colette is a dangerously skinny thing, in the way stray cats are. High cheekbones make it more apparent too. On seeing her murky, white and blinded right eye, Samara recalls having seen her once before on Pollepel Island, during the memorial ceremony, back before Samara had regained her body.
"S'nice t'meet you," Colette opines, offering out a hand in as much stuffy politeness as she's always been told was expected of her. Up close, it's clear Colette's struggling with fatigue of her own. Dark circles around her eyes, redness to them, general unhealthiness and likely a poor diet contributing to her weight loss. The stink of cigarettes and gasoline on her clothing uninviting and a dangerous combination.
"Cause I'm super awkward and no one likes me." Brian explains for Samara. He frowns at Samara's answer however. "I am so dateable. Listen. Get out of my sight before I punch you in the stupid mouth." Winters drops Samara's hand, once she's led to Colette. "I brought some subway, Lette, you want one?" Winters asks, taking a step back up the stairs towards the rest of the house. Smiling down at Samara and Colette linking up. "You two go ahead and get to know one each other. I'll go grab us all some food." Skipping up the stairs, Winters goes to join Tasha and the children.
An eyebrow is quirked at Brian as he releases her hand, but Sam just shrugs a little as she shoots him a playful smile. There's intrigue at Colette's comment, and the handshake is accepted with an easier smile. If Colette's appearance is particularly shocking, it mostly doesn't register aside from a softening of Sami's face. Concern is easy to come by. "Are you hungry?" her head turns to face Brian, as if asking some unuttered question, "I could fix you something— " which may or may not make Colette sicker judging from Sam's overall prowess in the kitchen. At least she deserves credit for heart and persistence. And then Brian offers Subway and disappears.
"Are you guys sticking around for awhile?" hazel eyes flit about the room. "There's a lot of work left, not much of a home yet, but it will be! As long as people don't take to the tunnels all of the time to play hide-and-go-seek or discover some other secret passage I think it'll make for a good home…" the word home itself is said with a deep reverence.
"Um…" Awkward mismatched eyes flick to the direction Brian left in, before squaring back on Samara. "I— Probably for the night?" Drawing her teeth across her bottom lip, Colette shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking once more to where Brian disappeared to and abandoned her with Samara. A sheepish, uncertain smile spreads across the younger woman's lips as she takes a heel-scuffing step backwards, meandering across the cellar.
"Um, Tasha… Tasha has school to worry about on Monday, and… and I've got a meeting with somebody tomorrow that I can't really afford to miss." Scrunching her brows up in a nervous expression, Colette angles a look back up to Samara. "You know, I— I guess you must've met Brian after I moved out've the Lighthouse. I… I didn't mean t'imply that he's a bad guy or nothin'. Brian… Brian took care'f me for a long time, when I was on the run from some people. He— he looked out for me, and he helped me learn a lot've stuff. I— You know, he's nice."
Nervous laughter bubbles up from Colette as she turns away from Samara, pacing across the basement. "So— so how long've you know him? I mean— I'm surprised I hadn't seen you 'round before. Didn't think the Ferry'd done much recruiting since the riots…"
Unlike Colette, Sam would prefer to sit, right now, anyways. She pads to the couch and finds a perch against one of the arms, as far to the arm as possible as if many many more people will want or choose to occupy the couch. She takes a slow breath as her eyes follow Colette around the room. "Honestly, I haven't known him all that long," her lips twist to the side. "And.." she cringes a little now, her story something of an oddity even in a crowd of oddities.
Her head tilts from one side to the other. And then, as her lips hitch up to one side, she tries to explain as best she can in as few words as possible, which comes out as one breathlessly random sentence to share her miniature tale, "I was in the midtown fiasco and I was sixteen at the time with my best friend forever we saw people dying and stuff and it was kind of disturbing but she lived and I disappeared altogether so we thought I died because she could see me but no one else could except I could interact with things and float around like a real poltergeist and then I could be seen in mirrors like a reflection girl between two worlds like some kind of odd Alice in" gasp for breath "wonderland."
Colette listens to Samara, but only about as much as a housecat might listen to its owner. As the teen's head tilts to the side, dark bangs fall over one eye and a single brow rises slowly. Colette's expression shifts to one of confusion as Samara's pace picks up, words blending into one another leaving one of Colette's brows twitching slowly. She picked up the important parts, like Midtown, and poltergeist. The latter's harder to relate to, and the awkward silence is growing.
Clearing her throat, Colette offers a lopsided smile and turns to start walking back towards the sofa with meandering steps. "I… um— " she searches for a way to relate, a way to connect. "I— was in Midtown too," isn't the happiest story, but it's something. "I— don't remember a whole lot. Some people had taken me… um, from my sister's apartment. I know now that they were with the Company." A name now villified in every household. "I was… I was in the hospital for a long time after what happened," as the story takes too dire a turn, Colette makes a noise int he back of her throat and shakes her head.
"Your— poltergist thing. It— that's 'cause you're a phaser, right?" Samara's secret, what of it is still a secret, seems delicately handled by Colette. "I've never met one 'fore, but my mentor Conrad used t'talk about 'em. Said he could never figure out how they worked."
"Sorry.. it's a story I've learned to tell quickly because I have to tell it a lot. Losing four years of my life is," Sam lifts a hand and rocks it, like some seesaw warily teetering on a stone, "complicated, I guess." She frowns slightly at the notion of being taken from a home. "That must've been scary," she offers quietly with an empathetic frown. "What I saw, what I actually lived through.. it scared me. Still scares me. The nightmares are less frequent, but— " her frown deepens. "A person can't see or experience these things without some effect. I hope it never hardens me to the point that it stops effecting me."
She nods slightly at the question. "Yeah. We think my ability, that first time when it kicked in— we think that it went into overdrive. Like I became so intangible that I was completely unseeable. Just not really there but there at the same time or something." She shrugs. "I can't explain it, I just do it. I think about it and I do it. And the less I think about it the easier it is sometimes. Like a reaction."
Coming back down the stairs, Brian totes a little SUBWAY bag, slinging it back and forth gently on a pair of fingers. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he smiles to the two young women on his couch. "So I have the turkey bacon thingie.. Meatball.. and a veggie. I almost got the seafood sandwich. But then I remembered I got that before and realized getting 'seafood' from Subway is a very stupid idea." Taking the little walk to cross the cellar he goes to place the plastic bag on the couch. "You guys take what you want. I'll take the last."
Taking a step back, he glances to the bottles on the ground then back to Colette. "How old are you now?"
The question of age has Colette's eyes widening. A smile, sheepish, crosses the young woman's lips. "I'm…" mismatched eyes regard the subway bags with some uncertainty, and the knot at the pit of her stomach gurgles to remind her that it's been a long time since she's had anything to eat. "I turned nineteen on Halloween," Colette quietly and embarrasedly explains, booted feet carrying her over to the couch the rest of the way. She reaches inside the front pocket of her hoodie, withdrawing a red and white pack of cigarettes. Rattling it from side to side, Colette's nose wrinkles. Empty.
Putting the empty pack back in the pouch of her sweater, Colette crouches down and crinkles the plastic subway bag around, reaching for the wrapped subs. "You— wanna split the veggie?" Colette asks with one brow raised and a look up to Samara. "I uh— I don't really think I could finish a whole one."
Brian's return brings a broad grin to Sami's lips, toothy and bright. "Splitting would be good. Eating a lot makes me queasy," these days. Which is actually more than Sam intends to say, bringing the slightest frown as she wills herself turn on her filter. She forces an easier smile as she draws her knees to her chest. They'll make a nice little table for her sandwich.
"I always wished I was born on a day that people would remember like Halloween. No one remember October 11 other than my parents. I think mothers never forget— " it seems the more she wills her filter up, the more it refuses, drawing a pale pink to her cheeks, and a silent reprimand to herself to stop talking altogether. And so she considers the earlier topic, "I saw you at the memorial service earlier. But you couldn't see me, no one could. Except with mirrors.."
Brian's eyes actually shoot over to Samara when she talks about being queasy. His eyes widening slightly, not that he couldn't mask it. More of a subtle sign from him to her to STFU. Going to grab the turkey bacon, he smiles lightly. "Kay. I will eat the rest." Not just him. In one body. But in two, okay. He's not fat. He just has a lot of stomachs to feed at times. He grins, "If you're born on Halloween. Did you grow up thinking like the festivals and everything were for you?"
His arms go out as he pretends to be Colette as a child. "The world is having a gigantic party for meeeee" In a high pitch little girl Colette voice.
When Samara starts talking about how no one could see her, he goes to take a seat on the couch next to her. Hand going to take hers. "I could." He says proudly, placing his sandwich on his lap. "Colette.. You could tell Sameye about what you came to talk to me about."
Moving over to take up a seat on the arm of the sofa beside Samara, Colette unrolls the sub wrapper across her lap, managing a dry, awkward laugh. "I— um— I didn't… really have parties growing up." Looking down to the veggie sub as it's unrolled, Colette peels a napkin out of the wrapper and then pulls the cut sandwich in half, setting down one side on the napkin and handing of off to Samara, inevitably spilling some shredded lettuice in her lap.
"My um— my birth parents…" Colette just shakes her head, changing the subject entirely, especially in that Brian offered a good enough change of topics, even if to something only slightly less emotional.
"I— came here t'ask Brian t'help me with something," Vague at first, Colette fixes her eyes down on the sandwich in her lap, crossing her legs at her ankles. "My— my adoptive father was a cop, a homicide detective working for the NYPD. He— when I joined the Ferrymen, I convinced him t'join with me. He'd feed us information, an'— and he kept an eye on me, sorta'." Drawing her teeth across her bottom lip, Colette's brows furrow.
"On the 8th, during— the riots. He— my dad was taken by the government. A— man named Heller took'm. Heller… Heller killed a lot of my friends, he took the Lighthouse from Brian, he— " Colette's eyes shut, her jaw trembles and she grows quiet.
Fingers curl in the wax paper wrapper of the sandwich, and she turns away from Samara, clearing her throat noisily. "I'm getting people t'gether, t'go after him. Find out where my dad is, and— " Colette's jaw gives an unsteady tremble, and even though she's turned away from Brian and Samara both, the tone of her voice is indication enough that this is a difficult topic.
"M'gonna kill'm."
The half sandwich is turned over in Sam's hands, considered rather than eaten while Colette explains why she's here. Following which the older the women loses her appetite. Her cheeks tinge a yellow-y nearly green colour as she closes her eyes and tries not to think about the sub that rests on her knee.
"I.." Sami frowns. "I'm sorry," always compassion first, a soft acknowledgment of loss. Her eyes follow Colette, the notion of murder still not settling on her mind the way it ought. "You need help," she puts it together. Kind of. "This Heller guy can't hurt more of us, can't hurt the kids, and can't get away with it." But they all know he can unless civilians do something about it.
"I can help," the three words are uttered as her hazel eyes track back to Brian semi-apologetically with a slight shrug of her shoulders. It's only halfway there, not quite wholly apologetic.
Blatantly staring at Samara, Brian reaches up to grab the sandwich off her lap. He then places it on his other side so Samara can't see it, or smell it. He picks up his own sandwich and turns and takes a bite putting it back down. Swallowing down, he looks over to Colette then back to Samara. "Sameye, I mentioned that. That you might be able to help. I might regret it now.." He lets out a sigh looking back to Colette. A choice is made.
"It depends on when this all happens Colette. If Samara can help us." Another bite. Another swallow. "Sam's pregnant." This sandwich is just great. And that's why he becomes much more engrossed in eating it.
And why Colette suddenly loses her appetite.
The sandwich half falls right out of Colette's hand, landing in the wrapper. Her eyes grow wide, stare vacantly at Brian and then, with trembling movement wraps the sandwich up as she slides off of the arm of the sofa. "I— I'm— " she sets it down, right where she was sitting, then backs away with both hands lifting palms out. "This— This was— " is a stammering beginning ot ana pology, or perhaps an excuse. "I— I need— "
Colette takes another step backwards, brows rising towards the ragged fringe of her side-swept bangs, before the outline of her body starts to beocme indistinct and transparent. "I'm sorry," Colette splutters, her body rippling like the surface of water as color drains out of her and soon too values of light and dark, painting her invisible against the background.
"I don't need Sam's help," a disembodied voice pleads.
With the way Colette ambles off the couch, Sam slides off moments later, her hands in front of her openly, displayed in front of her palms up, that's just putting everything on the table. With the way Colette moves she feels the need to reiterate the obvious, "I swear it's not contagious— and I can help, just— " Brian is shot a quick scowl and then she's back into explain-y mode. "No one knows outside of," she looks at Brian, silently signalling who else knows.
"I can help depending on when," she echoes Brian's concern. "Right now I'm still capable and able to pitch in where and when I can. These kids— " not just the one she's incubating "— they deserve better. If people shy away it won't get better and I already spent years hiding, I want to help."
Brian is looking down. And away from Samara's scowly face. Focused on the sandwich as he continues to eat. This is perfect. Colette will be the dicky husband figure for him. She won't be able to go, and he was in full support of her going on this operation at the beginning. So he is the perfect supporting man and she doesn't go into harms way. As he bites into his turkey bacon he silently appreciates his evil master plan.
Swallowing down, he glances up at Colette who has rapidly vanished. He then looks back down to the sandwich. Taking another bite, he goes to chew as Samara tries to stay Colette. Nom nom nom.
"And if you get killed," comes with a rush of colors and light, swirling in the same movement that Colette is wheeling about to face Samara, blurring into visibility with rush of color washing across her body to reveal her, one finger pointed up in jabbing accusation at the phaser. "Wh— what then? Yeah— you know the risks, but m'not gonna' have the death of your— of your fuckin' kid on my hands! I have— I have enough shit," her voice cracks in a squeak, "on my conscience! I don't— how fucking irresponsible do you have to be t'endanger yourself like that. You— you aren't just living for yourself or for your fuckin'— f— fucking relationship!"
Colette steps around Samara, not so much to circle her, but to retrieve that leather jacket that had been left on the sofa. Mismatched eyes meet Brian, narrowed and below furrowed brows. Snatching up the coat by the collar, Colette points towards him with a thrust of two fingers. "N'you! How— the fuck could you— you knew she was pregnant! What do you think, that fuckin Colonel Heller'll just not line her up against a wal n'shoot her if he gets the opportunity, b'cause she asks?"
Furious, Colette swings her jacket over one shoulder. "He took a fucking mother from her screaming baby and lined her up against a concrete wall and had her executed!" Voice cracking again, it's evident that Colette has worked herself up into an emotional tangle. She's mad, but not all of this anger is genuinely from the situation at hand; projected.
The visual display catches Sam more off guard than the yelling. Although both have that effect. "We.. I.. look. I— " the scolding sucks more of the fight out of her than Samara could've ever anticipated— combined with the fatigue it's taxing on her system. She takes a single step forward reaching a hand out towards Colette's shoulder to squeeze it. Her voice comes out soft, and she blinks fiercely to restrain her own emotions from spilling over "It's not like that. I know the risks. We know the risks. I'm aware. The world isn't safe. I can't sit back and do nothing.. because of this life. I'm hard to catch and when phased am untouchable.. and I'm getting better. Stronger." Her lips press together tightly. "I'm responsible to a lot of people. I owe them more… " she sniffs.
Brian just looks up at Colette as he finishes his mouthful. "I'm not supporting the idea of throwing my wife-to-be as well as the mother of my child into a battle." He tilts his head some at Colette as she bears down on him. "But if you were pregnant, and Heller had your father still. If Heller had done something. You wouldn't let it stop you. Don't even insult me by saying you would. You would be doing the same thing. Because you love your dad. And love outweighs logic everytime." He takes another bite, before looking up at Samara. His eyes glaze over her before he swallows to look back down at Colette.
He leans back some in the couch. "Colette. Please don't yell at her. You're not exactly in a position to be lecturing on responsibility." Brian murmurs quietly, glancing down at the couch, fingers going to pick at a string of thread in the couch. "None of us are. If we take on this endeavor. It will be a very stupid, foolish move. But we're going to do it. Because Heller took things we loved. He took my kids home. Kids who already had enough fucking issues in their lives, who were just getting used to calling a place home." But then Samara steps forward pleading her emotional case. Brian really wants to lean out of her eyesight and shake his head dramatically at Colette. Instead he just looks down at his sandwich and keeps eating.
"She stays," sounds like Colette wasn't even listening, her shoulder rolling sharply as she forces Samara's hand off. "Your baby doesn't get a choice," a finger points in Samara's direction, still simmering with frustration and anger. By the time she looks back to Brian, she's awkwardly trying to pull on the other side of her jacket over her other shoulder. "Adynomine, negators, and gas. Three ways a phaser dies." Colette raises one finger for Brian, counting each of those three things. "Don't try and justify this just because I lost something. She isn't me, and's far as I know unless Heller blew up Midtown he ain't done nothin' t'her to warrant throwing away her unborn baby's life."
Lifting up both of her hands to the side of her head, Colette closes his eyes and tries to sort out her thoughts. "Look— I— I appreciate it." Mismatches eyes open and focus over on Samara. "I get it; you wanna' help. But— I mean— seriously Sam. D'you really think this is the best idea? I— I would've loved t'have your help, but— but…" Dark brows furrow, lift high and Colette shakes her head slowly. "Sam, you got more important things t'worry about."
A nervous look, partway to apologetic, levels on Brian for a moment as a frown finally creases Colette's lips. "Me'n you can do this without her, please. She— don't make her make this kinda' choice," those mismatched eyes find Samara again. "This ain't your fight."
The hand is easy enough to remove as it drops to Sam's side, "It's all our fight. All of us. You can't tell me it isn't. You can't explain to me that a man lined innocent people against a concrete wall— lined a mother up while her baby cried— and killed them and tell me this isn't my fight. You can't win me over in one breath and trip me with the next. And it's not just about you or me or Brian. Things aren't getting better."
Her hands shove into her jean pockets, "In Midtown, right after it happened, I told Lanny things would get better. Registration happened it was the 'solution to everything', naively, like the kid I was, I thought things would get better. Lanny registered, Humanis First got more violent— the government insisted things would get better. Fast forward years later things have only gotten worse. Major rioting on November 8, a Dome thing prevents Roosevelt Island from interacting with the rest turning into some odd evolved prison, you can't tell me that things won't get better if I do nothing. Because for four years I did nothing and nothing got better."
"Fine," Colette hisses, waving both hands in the air, "you're a fuckin' hero, an' you can come and bleed with the rest of us an' I'll appreciate it, an' I ain't meanin' that sarcastic either." Adjusting the collar of her jacket, Colette walks around Samara, circling the sofa and headed for the stairs. She only gets a step or two up before she feels the urge to turn, looking down to Brian, then over to Samara.
"You can be a hero, or you can be a good mother." There's a twinge of some personal bias in Colette's voice, anxiety and emotion brought on by more personal issues than Samara's own choice. "But you can't be both. Guess we know which one's more important…" Mismatched eyes go unfocused, and Colette takes a few more clomping footfalls up the stairs.
The blinking from earlier actually brings tears to hazel eyes, "It's not about being a hero," Sam shakes her head slightly as she sniffles loudly. "Being a parent is more than feeding and clothing, it's about feeding into the future." A fleeting glance is given to the stairs, a scowl is shot to Brian, and then her head turns towards the tunnel. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are," she declares blandly to Brian as her shoulders tighten with emotion she wishes to suppress. "Do me a favour and don't follow me." And with that she enters the labyrinth, destined for its exit the fastest way possible to avoid its many twists and turns.
Brian frowns over his mouthful of turkey, tilting his head at Colette's departure. She was winning. And now she's giving up. The sandwwich comes up to take another nibble. His legs folding up under him. Reminiscient of a squirrel bringing a nut to his mouth, Brian's eyes follow Colette as she storms out. And then his attention goes over to Samara as she goes for the tunnel. Swallowing down turkey, he looks over to the very empty cellar he suddenly finds himself in.
"Love you~" He pipes after her.
