Participants:
| Scene Title | A Long Night |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Honesty may not always be the best policy (past curfew)? |
| Date | January 25, 2011 |
Confucius Plaza — Brian's Apartment
After Amid had retreated, Sam had taken to cleaning up. She'd filled the sink with soapy water, having made a silent decision to wash everything by hand, a strange thing considering there is a dishwasher in the apartment. Next to her. Her eyes focus summarily on her work— the task at hand— to get clean the dishes.
There's no humming while she works, no random twirling, dancing, or bouncing, just cleaning. Just scrubbing the plates, the pans, the pots. Anything that even got taken out is cleaned, whether or not it was used. She bites her lip as she scrubs at one particular pan.
Long yellow dish washing gloves protect her skin as she scrubs elbow deep in bubble laden soapy water. The water runs as she rinses it. It's still not clean. Her eyebrows furrow some, discontent as she brings it back to the washing sink to scrub again. This time harder. She scrapes the pan again and she bites harder on her lip. The tap turns on and she rinses it only to be discontent again. She sighs.
And it's about then when a small blue head appears next to Sam's face. A poorly made blue puppet hangs in front of Samara's face. Al the alien that Samara was briefly acquainted with looks at her with his big ol bug eyes. A puppet that Brian had made when he was a child, he grabbed it from his adopted family's home a year ago. With a few other stolen things.
Al lingers for a long moment. "You are saaaad." Al says with a nasally voice that should pass as an alien's voice. From Al's body an arm protrudes down and connects with Brian's shoulder. Who is on his knees under the counter where Samara can plainly see him. But the invisible people on the other side of the counter can't. "Don't be saaaad"
She actually jumps a little when the puppet appears near her head. She freezes for a moment abandoning the pan to the sink. Sami forces a small smile, a faint curl of her lips as she watches Al. There's another sigh as she considers what she's actually thinking or feeling. Carefully she rolls the gloves off her hands and sets them down on the counter. Her hands grasp the counter in front of her and she swallows audibly. "I'm fine," she murmurs quietly. Two dangerous words in a lot of respects.
And then, nearly in contradiction to what she's just said, she considers, "It's okay to be sad sometimes." She shrugs.
"Okay! Well if you're fine, do you want to go make out on the cooouch?" Al says happily. Though the next bit has him clasping his little mouth shut. Biting down on his lower lip, he leans in a little bit as if gazing deeply into Samara's very soul. "You don't want to, do yoou?" It's almost accusatory as if Al found something intrinsically flawed with Samara's life.
He pauses backing up a little bit. "Are you maa-aad?" The last word is said like a sheep bleating. Al tilting his head curiously at the young woman.
Sami's hazel eyes narrow at Al. Again she shrugs and she shakes her head, "Not really, no." Some people might find something fundamentally flawed about talking to a puppet, but Sam doesn't even think anything of it. There's another twitch of her lips not a smile, but not a frown. She sighs again.
The question actually has her turning around, back towards a little bit of counter space to hoist herself up onto the counter. She takes a quiet breath, nearly silent as she considers her answer. "Maybe a little." There's a pause as her nose wrinkles, not that Al can respond to her facial expressions. "Disappointed, I guess."
Al goes to rest his torn little blue head on Samara's lap, looking up at her. "Tell me what's wrong." The alien puppet murmurs, his face stuck in a perpetual smile delivered up to her. His arms are pretty floppy on their own, so one hand comes up to flick a little blue arm up onto Sami's lap. And then the other arm up to flop onto her hand.
"Is it because I didn't tell you about Sylar. I just didn't want you to worrryyyy~"
Sam frowns. All-out frowns. She slowly releases her breath as her fingers actually touch the blue arm against her hand. Her lips purse as she watches the forever-smiling puppet amid another sigh. Her lips quirk up a little. "Do you think that helped?" she asks with a tilt of her head. "Not telling me, I mean?" She swallows hard again, "I just.." her gaze turns downwards, to the arm which Al is connected. "Like what other things aren't you telling me to not worry me? Now I'm worrying about what I don't know." It seems Al is making progress, especially as she reaches a real moment of honesty. There's a pause. "And I have a very vivid imagination. You'd be shocked what I've been playing out in my head."
Al's unfrownable lips do the closest thing to frowning. They bend at the side. Al scoots forward a little bit before being withdrawn entirely and thrown across the room. Brian bounces up immediately, matching eye contact with Samara. "My source for finding Amid was my ex-fiancee, Veronica. She wanted to meet up with me to talk about.. Amid. That's why I took the job. Because I trust her." Winters tilts his head down as if a little ashamed. "Gabriel.. is.. was a good guy.. I really don't know what the fuck is happening. I don't know why Sylar attacked us. I thought he wasn't like that anymore. It might be a weird.. replication thing. I don't know." He looks up at her for a moment, turning his hands over on her lap. "That's all I've been keeping from you." Almost.
Sam's fingers clasp the edge of the counter as she nods a little. The frown remains, but there's silent acknowledgement of newly presented truth. The source is more unsettling than the Gabriel bit, but it's only evidenced in an arch of her eyebrows. Of course, they don't stay arched long, in fact, they crease together with another quiet sigh. "Promise?" Even as she asks the question, her hands are releasing the counter and sliding to his on her lap.
Brian tilts his head to the side. His chest wrestles a demon the size of an alligator as his eyes drift to the ring on Samara's finger. Then back to her eyes. Then back. Then back again. A light smile crawls up as he gives a tight nod. "I love you.." He lets out, baring his teeth briefly. Oh man. His eyes close for a moment. "Okay.. Fine. No." He lowers his head. "If I tell you what I'm about to tell you.. Promise you won't leave?"
Sami's eyes remain fixed on his even as he glances away several times over. Her tone is soft as she returns quietly, "I love you too," but the truth forms a distinct knot in her stomach particularly in light of the question. Her lips press together as she weighs the question. She manages to keep her expression mostly even, even as the words catch in her throat, "I.. I'm not going anywhere.."
"The night I proposed.." His throat tightens. He shouldn't be telling her this. "I ran.. Into Veronica." He looks up at the ceiling then down at the floor. "She gave me—" This is a mistake. MISTAKE. Abort abort abort. "She gave me the ring I gave her.. Back." Brian looks down at the ring on Samara's hand. He doesn't say much.
Face paling, Sam's chest feels heavy now. Everything feels heavy. Deadened. A hand is pressed against her chest. Disappointment becomes overtaken by pain. Her lips press together while her eyes become red and misty. She nods slightly as a single hand goes to her throat. She should yell, but all she can do is slide off the countertop. Her face reddens now, the hurt spilling over as tears stream down her cheeks. "I.." she sniffles. "..I.." She sniffles louder. "I.. need…" A glance is given the door.
"I know.." Brian lets out. "But.." An exhalation is made as his chin drops down. Listen Samara. He didn't keep a secret. This is progress. Buck up! Glancing at the door, he would go to block it but.. That wouldn't do much. "I'm stupid. It was.. I made a mistake. But.. I know.. I love you. I want to be with you. I really want to marry you." He insures a little desperately. "I'll.. I'll propose again. I'll do better."
He reaches up to try and take one of her hands. "Sameye.. I.. It was a big mistake. It's not what you deserve." Winters quickly lets out, shoulders dropping. "I…" He gives up right about there. No amount of apology right now is going to make up for it. His hands drop to his side as he looks over his shoulder for Al.. He probably won't help either. "I can spend the night somewhere else."
She hiccups amongst her tears as she reaches to her face to clear away the accumulating tears. The knot in Sam's stomach becomes heavier tighter nearly sickening in her hurt. She gasps for air once over as she squeaks, "Do you? Or.." hiccup "..did.." hiccup "..you.." hiccup "..just.." hiccup "..have.." hiccup "..a ring..?" She sniffles again, louder still, "You still love her?"
There's a firm shake of her head as she draws her hands tightly to her side, she's not so easily dissuaded. She doesn't want to stay here tonight, even if she'd promised. "I.. can't.."
Brian looks to the door. "I'll leave Sam. You stay here." His hands coming up, palms out. "You stay here, I'll go." He quickly offers. Got to get away from that hiccupping. That is probably the saddest thing in the universe. His own heart having dropped somewhere in between his asscheeks. "Please don't go out, Sam. It's past curffew. I'll go out. I'll be fine. Please don't go out." He pleads, taking a step backward towards the door.
But she has to ask that question. The question he has avoided thinking about this whole time. It's time for some light speed rationale. His lips purse as his eyes go down. Truly considering the question finally he looks back up. "I love you." A deep breath. "No. I don't love her." His eyes open when he realizes he had closed them. "She only gave me the ring.. She started crying. She didn't touch me. I didn't touch her. I told her I couldn't talk with her.. But then we got together for.. only business. She.. nothing." He assures her. He looks up hopefully at his hopefully still wife to be. "I haven't cheated on you. I will never cheat on you. My heart is yours…" He glances around the apartment. "And Ted's." He lets out weakly.
Quiet paces pull her towards the door. "I.." hiccup "..wanted.." hiccup "..to.." hiccup "..marry you.. " Her shirt sleeve runs over her face. "..not because of what you can do.. not because I couldn't stand being alone.." again she mops up the tears with her shirt sleeve, "..because I wanted you…" That sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grows. She trembles underneath the duress. "I— I can't be here.. " there's a deeper frown now. A normally rational-thinking Samara would probably yield to the logic. But in her hurt, in her distress, ideas like curfew can't process, particularly to someone who died four years ago and had become accustomed to being invisible.
She takes another deep breath, this one decisive in nature as her eyes move back to the door. She doesn't think about it, she just treads towards it, disappearing through it into the night.
"You.. wanted?" Brian asks, voice faltering a little bit. "Like past tense?" He watches her sadly, and then as she starts to go he lets out a pained groan. Dashing for a cupboard, he flips it open and reaches to the back. A gun is pulled out, and stcuk into the back of his pants. As he stands, a naked form of himself steps out of him. Running to go get shoes on, naked Brian goes to get dressed.
Clothed Brian is on his way through the door to thunder down the stairs and search for his maybe-fiancee in Chinatown past curfew.
It's going to be a long night.