A Cruel Sense Of Humor


huruma3_icon.gif megan_icon.gif

Scene Title A Cruel Sense Of Humor
Synopsis Megan finds out she set something off quite on accident; it's considered no harm done, for the moment.
Date May 4, 2011


The Bronx is the northernmost borough of Greater New York, and even before the explosion, this area was diverse. Though known infamously throughout the world to be a low-income area, it was not without its finer points, as well as home to the Yankee Stadium. It was dense with life, for better or for worse.

For now, it is the the south-west areas of the Bronx that are unrecognisable. Clean up has not gone steadily, and buildings still lie in ruination. It is now hard to tell what this place is even for. During the day, construction teams work to clear more and more roads of South Bronx, although people seem to take liberties by driving over the burnt out rubble if they have the means. There are make-shift trailer camps and soup kitchens for those that don't have a place to go. One feature of South Bronx is the Yankee Stadium, so far untouched. There is irreparable damage done to the building itself, and no game has played there since the tragedy. Graffiti tags the areas available, and people often congregate illegally upon the wrecked grounds. The field itself is overgrown with weeds between fallen debris.

Heading away from Manhattan, the Bronx takes on more function and hope. This borough, once a place of Jewish immigrants, then Latin-Americans and African Americans, is now a diverse mix of all races, any and all New Yorkers taking up residence on the other side of the wreckage. There is even a semblance of a transport system, the electricity back on and functioning, but crime rates are higher than ever.

The ride from Pollepel Island was accomplished in very low-key fashion. Megan's not like a star-quality looker and although Huruma is a bit memorable neither of them are exactly topping the Most Wanted lists. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her gray fleece hoodie, the redhead walks along with the taller, darker woman in a ground-eating stride. They're not running, not moving furtively. Just purposefully. "I'll be glad to have some additional clothes," she admits candidly. Not that she's clotheshorse or anything, but… she's only got two pairs of scrubs and two sets of other clothes to her name. They're getting a bit worn.

"I'm lucky t'fit into anything, consider yourself fortunate." Huruma is dressed as down as she can be, with a similar sweatshirt and pants, boots as scuffed as mud on spring sidewalks will allow. She came along with Megan both because they kind of are friends- in a sense- and that Megan is too important to lose. Bonus being that at some point they'll get to chat. "I'll have t'scour in my spare time, I think; spring cleaning leaves out all of th'good stuff, doesn't it?"

"Clothes are just as important as anything, I expect." Not that Huruma is terribly worried- she is clever enough to manage.

Megan glances up at her and then laughs. "Yeah… I guess being average height has some serious perks," she admits. Her mood since they left the island has actually been a bit brighter. Just getting out into the fresh air… or relative fresh air… in the past week has been great for her. It doesn't hurt that someone brought chocolate. "I'm afraid I don't have anything that will fit you. We could try to hit a couple of stores and see what we can find. I have a little bit of money available." There's a bit of a grimace. "I don't know where to look for clothes for someone your height," she admits.

"Skirts make shopping easy, but action less so." Huruma will be the first to admit it. They aren't the best for horseback or jumping moving trains or whatever else. Usually. "Much of the time if things are short, I wear boots over." Which also explains some of her always wearing them. Huruma knots her hands into fists inside the pockets of her jacket, zipped half open to at least the sun through breezy clouds. She half-smiles to Megan.

"I've been wearing a lot of men's clothes. Easier t'come by, as of late." Though they make her look far more masculine, and really- if it weren't for her pear shape, she'd be one of the guys.

The redhead looks both thoughtful and perhaps a little surprised. "I didn't think of that," she admits. Boots, she means. Megan grins up at her. "I guess you learn all kinds of little tricks when you have to. There are a number of big and tall places for men, but I'd bet they rarely cater to a woman's taste at all." She doesn't make the assumption that just because Huruma is an incredibly tall woman that she's not feminine. She never has. As they walk along, she thinks to ask, "So, uhm…. do you mind if I ask you… how you're handling the future stuff that's coming at us?"

"There are some places. Not many. I've bought heels with steel shanks in them from transvestite shops, that is how much 'not many' is." The dark woman's voice finds a bit of contentment there, talking about something mundane, and so when Megan mentions the recent goings-on, Huruma has to pause speaking to hide clutter in her thoughts.

"Handling it enough. I don'know if Abigail told you about Kasha, but- there is one of her, like Benji an'th'rest. She grows up t'be quite beautiful." And without Huruma, for the most part. She watches the air in front of them, for now. "All of it makes me far more curious than angry, or upset."

Megan blinks. Several times. Transvesti…. oookay. That was not a thing she ever really thought of. Seriously. But then the answer to the question comes and she shifts gears a bit. "She told me," Meg replies quietly. "At least that she was here. That she'd seen her. It was why that bit didn't shock me at the meeting." She purses her lips as they move and she observes, "I hope that the dreams people had are things that we can change." She looks up at Huruma, blue eyes sincere. "The illness…. can take many years. You know that?" Her tone is a little diffident, as if she doesn't want to take away the hope, but she is more … warning a friend gently that she might not be in the clear yet. "You'll… tell me? If you feel odd?" she asks. "I don't want you to go through that alone. I'm hoping that it was something contracted later." Because that means that Huruma hasn't been exposed yet.

Hey, you gotta make shoes to hold men when it comes to that- Huruma isn't much of a twig. It works out in the end.

"I know that. I will tell you, if it is th'case." Huruma looks and sounds perfectly confident that she isn't ill, going so far as to all but glare. Perhaps that is enough. She also stops walking, low voice finding itself settling into something threatened. "From what we heard and saw, it sounded as if it was a fast-acting strain- type- whatever you want t'call it. If I had contracted it by now, I would b'gone already." Huruma breathes out through her nose and purses her lips.

"I'ave too much t'stay for now, anyway. Gaunab has accepted th'changes I'ave made for myself. Now, he will only take m'when it is right. Th'worst thing that I mus'look forward to is arthritis."

"Well, we're all staring that in the face," Megan scoffs. "Some of us now, some later." She smiles slightly, stopping when Huruma does and looking up at her. "You can glare all you want, but I had to say it out loud, okay?" Because for all that Huruma can be a ferocious and terrifying woman, Megan likes her. Genuinely.

Huruma only comes to realize she is glaring when Megan says so. It doesn't leave, though, and she narrows one eye slightly more, opposite brow tilting up at the edge. Her lips flatten again, and she shifts her weight away from Megan. One of her hand lifts from a pocket to rub a moment at her own cheek. "I know you did."

"You are not as bad as Liza is, at least." That's implying that little Liza Messer says a lot of things out loud. "Thank you for your frankness, Megan."

The redhead smirks. "Well, I do know how to bite my tongue when it matters," Megan points out as she starts walking again. She glances at the street around them, noting the ebb and flow of traffic. "I just … tend to think that especially now, we should be honest with one another. There are so many things that could happen. So many things that won't just because we know about them." She shrugs slightly. "It's a strange place to find ourselves."

Huruma follows Megan again, staying about a quarter-step just behind, for a moment. She peers at her shoes, for lack of better places, when she also goes on to say something about being honest. Which Huruma really hasn't been, sometimes. Not wholly- maybe not exactly what was meant by Megan, but now it is in Huruma's head anyhow. "I know that I won't be leaving without putting up a fight. But I also think those children should get th'benefit of th'doubt for now. They didn't tell us they were here for a reason. Maybe we are supposed t'figure it out on our own."

"Perhaps," Megan agrees. She glances at Huruma. "Most of them will get the benefit of the doubt. I'm not so sure about Deckard's boy," she admits. "It's beyond my comprehension, reacting in vengeance in that way."

"Not beyond mine." Huruma tries not to sneer at herself a little, instead deciding that a passing car should get the brunt of it, and she falls again a half step behind. "I'ave been there. Where he is. Not literally, only th'state of mind. I know why he would do it. B'cause per'aps at one time I would'ave done it, given th'opportunity." She shakes her head once, before going into a moment of quiet, and picking up again- this time somewhere totally different.

"I heard about what happened, at th'docks. Small castle."

The redhead nods slightly, not seeming bothered by Huruma's admission — just because she can't quite fathom it doesn't mean she'll look down on Huruma for being able to. Perspective is a very personal thing. The segue into that comment, though, throws Megan. "What happened at the docks?" she asks, entirely confused. "What happened? Did I miss something?" She looks alarmed.

This shouldn't be making heat rush up into her face and let her guts coil in on each other like a ball python. Still, it does. It's harder to tell when someone so brown gets red in the face, but in everyone there is a kind of slackening of cheeks, a flickering of eyelids, a defensive hint in the posture. Huruma's hands dig earthward, but she already has them as far as they will go into her pockets. The gesture is awkwardly frustrated. Unbeknownst to her, even one foot scuffs its heel back.

"You didn'miss it, you were there…" Several moments of mixed feelings end up somewhat incredulous. "With Benjamin."

She stops dead in the sidewalk. The tone is what tips her off more than the body language. Megan draws the taller woman to the side out of the path of other people walking along, and looks… not exactly embarrassed. Perhaps… uncertain. "Oh." Well, that's a little awkward, isn't it? "He asked me what I wanted from the mainland and I was… mostly teasing, but he remembered," she comments with a bit of a smile. "I thought he deserved a proper thank you." She shifts her weight slightly, asking candidly, "Do we have a problem, Huruma?" If anything, she might have expected this from Lynette, being as she knows Ben's got a thing going on, but from Huruma it's a little surprising. Maybe it shouldn't be.

Huruma isn't in a place to bother fussing when she is shifted off to the side, though her gaze on Megan becomes considerably more steady. Stillness is probably not a good thing, here. When Huruma hasn't actually done anything so far, that is probably balancing it out. The dark woman's expression goes from flustered, to quiet, and then to a more subtle glare than the first one. Her voice is lower, more private. "A problem?"

"Do we?" She's dreadfully new at this, that much is obvious- what 'this' is could be any number of mundane, domestic things. "I don't know."

"I'm not going to apologize for what happened… we're all adults. But if you're… offended or bothered, I'll apologize for that much." Megan is sincere, and she makes a point of being straight. "It was intended as nothing more than a thank you." That it became something else for a few moments was unexpected. By both parties, really.

"Nobody expects me t'be offended or bothered." Huruma knows it's true. "But I am." Not so good at divining her own self, but she can feel Megan's sincerity, in that she does not feel at all deceptive, or shy about the apology. Her hands come out only to cross forearms in front. "I apparently have no right t'be, though."

Quirking a brow, Megan says quietly, "I wouldn't presume to tell you that you have no right to feel what you feel. I didn't realize that you did. Hell…. I'm not sure I realized that it was going to be what it was." She clears her throat, a little uncertain now. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "It won't happen again." It brings a pang of regret with it, but if Huruma cares enough to bring it up, it's important. "Have you told him?" she asks softly. Because she was not privy to the emotions between the two in the dream, only her own perspective of what happened.

"Not b'cause of you…" Huruma mutters, but she lets Megan keep talking. "You don'have t'promise me something like that." For it not to happen again- she's not totally out of the loop. If people are going to gravitate, they gravitate. The less known law of the jungle.

"Sort of." She frowns. "He suspected it for some time. After th'dream-" Huruma purses her lips reluctantly. "-in th'dream I'd pushed what was mine, so he felt it all. He avoided mentioning it, we jus'went on with everything." Because proud, stubborn people don't like to talk about things that can compromise that.

"So- somewhat. He knows that I do care very deeply for him. But I know he is still afraid of me." Afraid of completely trusting her, no less. Huruma lifts a hand to rub her palm over her forehead, staring down at Megan like a heavy-browed statue.

Blowing out a breath, Megan looks sympathetic. "I … don't really know what to say to that," she admits quietly. "Nothing's ever really simple, is it?" She smiles just a little.

"Never." Huruma still can't get over the fact she's supposed to be able to read emotions and can't even manage her own. "God has a cruel sense of humor. Lets me kill his partner, we almost kill one another- and years later, I find myself here." It's a terribly karmic event. Her hand comes down over her face, fingertips on one cheek, thumb on the other.

"For a …lack of other options, I am jus'going t'continue being his friend. I am new at this, can you tell?" Huruma finally lets out a puffing laugh, in response to Megan's little smile.

Chuckling, Megan points out, "Oh, right, and I'm like the soul of experience, huh?" Not. She nudges Huruma with a shoulder and resumes walking toward the storage shed. "In general, I find it best to just… continue on and let most things play themselves out as they will, Huruma." She pauses. "Are we… okay, then? I mean…." She looks a little awkward as they walk. "I'm not exactly sure how to handle this. Not like it's ever been an issue before."

"More than I am." Huruma scoffs lightly, and she is still content enough to follow Megan when the other woman starts walking again. "We are okay. I didn'know if I needed t'say something- it is not like I have an actual stake in- anything-" She tips her head, the gesture surprisingly submissive for Huruma to make. "-but it was bothering me, an'I wasn'sure what words were appropriate. You don'need t'stop being fond of him, b'cause of me. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Megan."

Megan shrugs slightly. "Not uncomfortable, just… " She pauses, searching her own reactions. "It was unexpected," she finally says. "Confusing. More so because I don't think he has any better idea of what to do than any of us." She smiles toward the other woman. "And I don't want you to think you can't talk to me if you want, Huruma. About… anything that you want to talk to me about. Whether it's uncomfortable for either of us or both of us or whatever. I… think of you as a friend." The last is perhaps a little shy. She keeps her emotions and thoughts to herself a lot, so offering that much in words leaves her feeling a little… exposed.

It's hard to not be exposed with Huruma as it is, but at least most of the time she tries to give the people she is close to some more space than others. An inspection here or there, not influencing them without a reason or otherwise, permission. At times like this, however, she always finds herself watching and gauging someone else. Situational.

"He doesn't. I can tell." Which also means that she wasn't actually expecting anything out of telling him face to face, if she knows he doesn't know what to do. Something less important than keeping others alive and well. "Maybe I secretly knew I could say something. And that you would not mind, in th'end. Thank you." For not freaking out, for listening, and for the offer.

A grin shoots toward Huruma. Megan shrugs a little. "You're welcome," she says simply. It's just that easy. At least for her. She points ahead. "There's where I rented space," she says. "There's not much, but … eh, it's better than nothing."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License