Participants:
| Scene Title | A Waste of Taco Bell |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Curt comes bearing bribes to exchange for information. He gets his money's worth: not much. |
| Date | June 16, 2009 |
Primatech Research: April Bradley's Office
April Bradley is dead; April Bradley is alive. She walked into the building and everyone stopped to stare — everyone, except the three who came with her. It's not every day that the deceased walk, even at Primatech.
That was two days ago.
Two days later, there is still a decided disconnect; April remembers everything well enough, the building layout, the protocols, the procedures — but except for floorplans, her knowledge comes at ten years' remove. She remembers almost all of the people, even if it takes some time to match a name to a disconcertingly familiar face. They haven't changed; they're exactly as she remembers them.
April isn't the way they remember her.
Pleasant enough to the people she now calls coworkers, April Silver still holds herself at a remove, preferring to work alone over socializing, reconnecting, remembering. She has a single purpose right now, and her waking hours are devoted to that purpose; that's why there are charts, maps, timelines on the desk and the walls of the small office that once belonged to April Bradley, lines carefully colored, cross-references painstakingly noted and filed. She only needs one isotope track, and she knows exactly where to start looking.
From there, it's just a matter of connecting the dots since.
Curt wraps his knuckles on her door and leans against the frame, eyeing the room, "Hey Crazy, wanna beer and Taco Bell?" he offers, holding up a steaming cold Miller and a plastic bag filled with fattening fake mexican food. Looks like nachos from the odd shape of the bag. He himself hasn't changed much. Maybe a different shirt, pants, but there's little way to tell with his BDU style dress code. Someone should really get him into a proper bit of clothing, he'd look smashing in something less 'PTSD Homeless guy'.
Crazy? Possibly. "I'll take the tacos," April replies. Or whatever it is; she hasn't actually looked up yet. The woman finishes writing a note first, then looks over the desk at her self-appointed guest. "Stopped drinking beer halfway through my time in college." Dressed in tan slacks and a dark green blouse, her hair straightened and tied back, she looks the part of April Bradley, if one ignores the hint of additional years on her face. "What's the occasion?"
Curt drops the bag of food on the desk and take the beer for himself, popping to top off of it, "Socalizing. I have been told I'm not much of a team player, apparently there are those that find me abrasive." He rolls his eyes and takes a hit from the beer, handing her the cap to toss into where ever it is she's hidden the trash can in here. "And of course, by socializing I mean to pump you shamelessly for information about the future that I might turn to my own personal advantage. Sporting events, untimely celebrity deaths, embarassing moment's in Len's career where he's caught in a woman's dress or something. Any of these are acceptable."
The woman snorts quietly, an ungraceful sound. "I think I forgot how to socialize a while ago," she replies. She didn't, but she is out of practice and has other things on her mind besides making nice with the fellow agents. "The future you're talking about is almost ten years ago for me," April points out with a faint, wry smile. "Moab didn't get a lot of news, at least not if you were inside the bars. And I never met Len until I got here. So I probably won't be much help to you."
Curt sighs, "Well that was a waste of Taco Bell then." he leans over and takes the nachos out of the bag and opens them, starting to munch a bit himself, "What about the supposed Cure? They around to that in your time?" he crunches the chips as he looks around the room, trying to figure out her pattern of colorful dots and lines.
"Well, at least it didn't cost you much," April replies. Taco Bell's cheap. She grabs a handful of nachos for herself, sitting back in the chair. "I didn't hear anything about a 'cure', or anyone pursuing one either. I guess because people got into the 'peace and harmony' bent. There were rumors about going the other way, but no one ever really said anything except the usual conspiracy theories, that I heard."
Curt nods his head, "I figured as much. Seemed a bit like Pinehearst bullshit." he munches more chips, "And I'm gonna assume from the way you greeted the princess and not me, we've never met, have we?" he licks some cheese from his thumb.
"Nope," April affirms. She wipes her fingers on a flimsy brown napkin, studies the aerial photos taped up to a bulletin board. Circles, lines, and arrows decorate the city grid, presumably signifying the motion of people. Or they could be directions, but there's rather too many for that. Isotope tracing. "I haven't seen you before in my life. Well, before all this," she amends with a flick of a wave. "I don't even recognize the name, though it's not like I got anywhere near more than a fraction of personnel files."
Curt nods his head, "That's okay, with all the classified hoosie-whastits running about in this place even if you had there's no telling what sort of jobs I was doing for the Company in your timeline. Well… phooey. I was hoping you could tell me a happy ending."
The woman chuckles quietly, and shakes her head slowly. "I don't have any happy endings, Lu. Sorry. If you were out in the rest of the timeline, somewhere I wasn't, then maybe you did have one. For what it's worth," April concludes, "I hope so."
Curt snorts, "I had a happy beginning, I don't think I qualify for the happy ending." he hands her the little plastic plate thingie the nachos come on, letting her have the last few as he seems to withdraw for a moment. After a second or two he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, "Well fuck it. Never thought it would be good news anyway. So, what have you got for us in the way of business news Crazy? Anything interesting?" he gets back to business.
"Can't say I do, either." April echoes the sentiment, as she accepts the plate and finishes off the nachos while Curt reflects. She waves the last one briefly to indicate the room. "I'm trying to backtrack Doyle's movements for the last week. See if there's a pattern. Almost concluded there is one, but the take from another day or so will help prove that."
Curt nods his head, "Hooray. Go you. And they say that obsession is a bad thing." he pushes himself to his feet, "What do they know." he plucks up his beer and enjoys another swallow, "If you need any help lemme know. I'm almost always haunting the joint."
April nods to Curt. "Thanks. I think I'm almost done; I'll tell you when I have a location," she promises. Her lips twitch faintly at the thought of obsession. "I guess it is an obsession," the woman allows. "But it won't need to be for long."
Curt snickers at that and stands, "Yeah, because once one obsession fades another never takes it's place." he heads for the door, "Enjoy the burritos and the hunt. You know where to find me when the time comes."
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