A Brand New Morning


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Scene Title A Brand New Morning
Synopsis It's the second February 17th, 2010 that Peyton wakes up to, but a new one for Wendy Hunter, as the time traveler gets R and R from her friend.
Date February 17, 2010

Wendy's Apartment

Wendy knew, that she wouldn't remember this. Warned ahead of time by chubby sword bearing Asian, the Hunter Heiress knew that come the end of the night, maybe even the next morning, Peyton would be gone and she'd be back to her regularly scheduled life of trying to get off Refrain, of John in the hospital, the bookstore and all that jazz. She could see something wounded in her friend and the last day, commencing after she'd woken up, it had been everything that peyton liked, no holds barr'd, if it could be ordered to the apartment, it would be done. They had eaten, drag virgin drinks replete with comments from wendy about how she hadn't had virgin anything in a long time wink wink, nudge nudge. bathing suits and lots of bubbles in the jaccuzi tub, movies.

Pictures. Never a moment in which the gangly brunette was not snapping off one handed pictures of the two of them, of peyton whenever she managed to smile. SHe had a plan. She wouldn't remember, but the Asian hadn't said that Peyton wouldn't. She had a plan

When Peyton had been tucked into bed, wendy had gone to work. Put up the drop cloths that were used when she was working with clay or wood and carving, so that dust wouldn't seep elsewhere. Not ebcause she was working with those materials but because she didn't want Peyton to see. Through the early morning, the wee hours, she cut, she shellacked, she pinned and clipped, snipped and sacrified stuff. She posed in front of the camera with all sorts of things.

She catnapped and when her own alarm blared off in her ear, she got up. She had a job and by god, and by little chubby asian man, she was going to do it. A tray, laden with french toast, icing sugar sifted over it, orange slices arranged just so, strawberries sliced and fanned out, fresh squeezed juice and everything that Peyton could imagine for breakfast waited, on the bed beside wendy atop a wooden tray, her goldfish eye'd friend smiling as she prodded her with a single finger to wake up.

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey" Hushed voice. "It's a brand new morning, the world is still spinning and we are alive and the sun is shinging"

The fact she could sleep so long into the morning, even after her several-hour nap in the afternoon of the day before, is a testament to just how exhausted Peyton had been when she arrived not on Wendy's doorstep but on her living room rug. There is a little more color in her cheeks and her eyes are less swollen from crying as she opens them and blinks into Wendy's face, her breath catching in her throat for a moment before she remembers where she is.

When she is.

She sits up and laughs, shaking her head at the artistic plate of food. "God. First time anyone's brought me breakfast in bed, unless you count a box of doughnuts and a bloody mary, and it's my best friend, not some hot guy," she teases, trying not to jostle the tray. "Are you going to help me eat all of that, Flaca?"

"I can be a hot guy" Wend turns away, leaning to grab some pen, write ona finger and then turn back. Hand curled in a fist, forefinger extended, on the inside side of a finger a mustache is drawn, held just below her nose, the top of her lip. "Hey baby, nice boobs" Dropping her voice to imitate some macho man. "It must hurt, when you fell from heaven"

Peyton giggles and pushes at Wendy. "Ugh. I don't like mustaches on guys. Not unless they have a goatee with them. They look like walruses or something with just the mustache," she says, pulling her legs up and crossing them Indian style before picking up the tray to set on top of her knees. "Why did we eat take out all those times when it turns out you're Miss Emeril or something?" she asks, picking up a fork to cut off a bit of French toast.

She brings the bit to her mouth, chewing it for a moment. "Did you ever meet a Wes Smedley, by the way? Speaking of hot guys."

"I never cooked for you?" The finger pulling away from her lip falters a bit. "I'll have to cook more for you in the future. Remind me. Mind you, usually it's cause I'm elbow deep in non-edible paint and all that, or we're out, so, you know" Wendy shifts on the bed moving to sit yogi style opposite her, lean slender fingers grasping a strawberry slice pincered between two fingers and levered into her mouth. "Wes… smedley… nope. Is he someone yer seeing way way in your totally awesome life and am I totes jealous of you?"

"I think a couple times, you did. I'm just kidding," Peyton says a little ruefully, knowing there won't be any time in the future for her friend to cook for her. She reaches for the glass or orange juice to sip from it, swallowing down the lump in her throat that comes with that knowledge. "This is great, though."

Setting the glass down, Peyton shrugs. "Someone I'm seeing, yeah. It was kind of a drunken one-night stand thing that's turned out to be … you know. Going on a couple months. It's not exclusive. Just curious if you ever crossed paths, if you knew anything about him," Peyton says, her voice soft and uncertain, but affectionate in tone. "God. I did this auction thing — one of those bid for a date type things? I ended up with four dates. He wasn't one of them. One was this kid Amadeus Deckard — I guess his father's some asshole Cardinal knows, this other guy I got in an argument with about politics — yeah, I know, me talking politics? Shit is shit in the future, Wendy. And then a nice gamer geek who was kinda cute. And then Cardinal. But Cardinal and I didn't go on that date — we'd already had one from the first auction and it went horribly, so …"

Peyton sighs. The girl talk is bizarre when Wendy doesn't now all the backtext. "And I was in a bad mood after the night of the auction and ran into Wes, who I'd met earlier, and… I donno. He's kinda old but he's pretty hot. And he took care of me, when I overused my power."

She reaches to push a strand of Wendy's black hair out of her face. "I guess it's kind of like John. Where … it's sort of meant to be nothing but it feels like it might be something."

"Old and hot means good in bed, unless he's really old, in which case, run away. Viagra should not be the basis for a good relationship" Wendy leans forward, stealing Peytons next bite of french toast for herself while she tucks the strange of hair out of the way, focus on tuning out what comes with the touch and on her friend and her words. "Well, I must like him, if you're still dating him, cuase I sure as fuck wouldn't let you near an asshole. One night drunken stand though, huh" She grins, stealing another strawberry. "Call him Logan. He doesn't like being called John. God, he gets so cranky when you do it"

"We haven't done a lot of socializing, really, it's mostly in his place or mine, if you know what I mean," Peyton says with a little bit of a smirk — it's true enough, but the smirk is meant to deflect any suspicion on Wendy's part as to why she hasn't met the man. It's not like she'd met Logan while they were dating except for once.

"I actually had to do some work with Logan recently — in the future, you know. He did me a favor. He's not a bad guy," Peyton murmurs, picking up another bite of french toast and chewing it as her eyes slide away. "And no, Wes doesn't need any Viagra, god, he's not old, he's just not… young."

"See, I told you. Sure, he's a bit fancy, but I don't mind guy who takes pride in his appearance." Wendy smiles. "I'm sorry it took you however long it did, for you to see it. He's.. He's a good guy. See, now you know, the one night stands that don't stay one night stands. But whatever. He's .. something. Friend with benefits with a little dash of something. Except he stucks in the hospital, fucking bus" She steals another bite of french toast before darting forward to plant a quick kiss on the corner of her friends mouth. "Tell your wes I'll kick his fucking ass if he hurts you. I'll come down from my little artistic tower, and bring my clay tools and my wood carving shit and I will get all up in his business and make him look like freddy fucking krouger"

Peyton shakes her head and laughs. "I don't think he'll hurt me, Wendy. He… he's a cowboy, and all rugged and stuff, but there's something really sweet about him, and I think he thinks I'm some sort of princess that needs to be protected, because of all the things I've gone through. If anything, he's kinda playing the knight in shining armor which isn't at all what I expected."

She picks up her orange juice to drain it, before setting it down. A smile curves her lips and she shrugs. "I guess I kind of like it. And it helped take my mind off other things that are … you know. Hard to deal with." Her feelings for Cardinal. Her fear of an inevitable death.

She picks up a strawberry and reaches to pop it into Wendy's mouth. "So what's on the agenda for day two?"

'Well, I need to go in a few hours and just hunker in the studio for a bit" Her teeth snap down on the strawberry, calculated to stop just shy of her friends fingers, chewing then swallowing. "I gotta check on Logan and see if there's anything that he wants. You won't let me bring anyone in, so there goes the idea of hiring some masseuses to come in and just work us over. I guess more movies. I can hit up the grocery store and get more stuff. I can make you a really good meal, so that you're not time traveling on an empty stomach. get some weight on you too, Fuck pey, you're melting away"

"Me! Look at you!" Peyton squeaks, reaching to grab her friend's skinny forearm, cirling her middle finger and thumb around and shaking it. "You look like a prisoner of war. And I haven't lost any weight at all since now." That's a lie — all the worrying about her future along with running around after a puppy have resulted in the lose of about ten pounds from Peyton's frame since June, but she's not going to admit it.

"Okay. I'll read or something or nap more while you work on your art. I want to see whatever it is you're working on, by the way, before I have to go," Peyton adds, shivering just a little at the inevitable. She can't stay forever in this warm apartment, and she wil l see her father again, but at what cost? The next mission might be harder than the last — a thought that truly scares her.

"I'll let you see it" Wendy'll put something else up on the easel, for her friend to see, hide the other.

She hadn't been in the frame of mind to do something, but she wanted to make this for her friend. Hopefully the chubby asian wouldn't say no. Maybe. If he did… then he did. What could it hurt right? Speaking of such. The black camera that was off at the foot of the bed is dragged up, digital, expensive, professional. 'Come on smile for me and stuff that gorgeous fucking face of yours with french toast"

"God. As long as you swear no one but me or you will see this—" Peyton says with a laugh, picking up the rest of the triangle of toast with her fingers and pushing it into her mouth so that her face bulges like a chipmunk's, then reaches out playfully with sticky fingers toward Wendy's face, pulling it toward her own before puffing out a billow of powdered sugar at her friend in a breathy "air kiss."

Caught, a series of clicks, the camera working to capture every fraction of a second before it's pulled away to avoid getting icing sugar on the lens and letting it thump down to the bed. "I still say, I should be allowed to bring a masseuse. You need a good rub down and I am no good at that" She points out, reaching out to tangle her spindly fingers in with peytons own and hold them. "Puhleeeze. He said I'm to make you relax, make you have a good time and decompress. Something to while I'm holed up in my studio"

"No," Peyton says, shaking her head and moving the tray off her lap so she can stretch her legs over the side of the bed. "It's too tricky. I already screwed stuff up and made 'ripples' apparently. I don't want to screw up anything else. I'll be okay. I'll just read a book and sit in the jacuzzi or something. Really, the less people I see, the better. I can catch up on all the gossip rags or something — I was too busy reading and clipping out the real news to catch up on what my buddies Paris and Nicole were doing this time last year."

Peyton flashes a grin, squeezing Wendy's hand as she stands to face the day. "Now get me some clothes — yoga pants I guess, I can't squeeze my fat ass into your size double zero jeans."
"Just cause my ass is tighter than yours…" WEndy grins wickedly, sliding off the peacock blanketed bed, with it's black and teal tones all over the room. There's a gesture to the closet that rests beyond the door opposite the bed. "Anything in there, that fits you, is yours. Your shit's still being cleaned, see what can be slavaged. I can call down and send enduardo out for something foryou to wear. That you think you might need. Like hiking boots, jeans and like.. fisherman sweater?"

The peacock tones match the peacock feather inked on the back of Peyton's neck as she heads toward the closet, opening it and peering inside. "I have no idea where I'm going this time. Not like I had a clue last time. My travel agents, they seriously leave something to be desired. I am so going to use another agency next time," she says with an affected tone and an airy wave of her hand before snorting. "Jeans, a waterproof trench, boots would be good. I'll write down my sizes, if you don't remember them," Peyton says as she pulls a pair of yoga pants and a colorful t-shirt that will serve the purpose of lounging until her time is out.

"Done and done. I'll make sure they ambiguous in style but not horrible" Wendy's bouncing off the bed, a glance for the tattoo on the back of Peytons's neck. Someday she'll probably be with her friend when she gets it. "Nice tat there bad ass" And poof, she's gone, bearing the tray with it's leftovers out the bedroom door to prepare the rest of the two day temporal vacation.

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