Adios Muchacha Carrota~


delia_icon.gif kincaid_icon.gif

Scene Title Adios Muchacha Carrota~
Synopsis Someone has to keep Carrots safe.
Date January 23, 2011

Russo's Apartment

The last time Kincaid stopped in uninvited, he had to knock roughly on the door. This time, he bounds up the flights of stairs as fast as he can, as if racing against the clock. He's not sure that there is a race to it, but he's not going to let them catch up, in case there is. The key he grabbed from the man's office is put into the door. The deadbolts are opened, and then it's pushed forward.

The show was live. If the girl had watched any of it, she would have seen what happened before the quick cut to commercial.

"Delia?" he asks, as soon as the door is opened. "It's Kincaid, I work with your brother," he says quickly, as he closes the door behind him, already beginning to take in the room, as if wondering what all he might need to take.

There's the raucous sounds of quick Spanish coming from one of the bedrooms at the end of the hallway. The door is cracked open just enough to let light pour through to the dim hallway. "Calm down Rosa.. What's the matter? What are you— " Pause. "Hey no! You can't— That's mine!!" The panicked voice of Delia Ryans or Robin Bristow, as she's known by now, rings through to the entrance. "Stop! Rosa what's going on?!"

In the bedroom the housekeeper has been frantically packing for Delia since seeing the episode on the air. She never misses the boss on show days and even though she can't understand half of what's said, the man's smile makes up for it. The older woman's language is much too fast for the young redhead to understand and she sputters as she tries to wrench things out of the duffel bags that Rosa is throwing them into. "Vama— What? Problema? Me?! He said he wanted me to stay! Yesterday morning! Where am I going?!"

A spanish speaking housekeeper. That's not quite what he expected, but Kincaid likely thinks it makes sense, as he moves further into the apartment, his hands held up to show they're empty of weapon or badge. "Miss Rosa," a name he would not have known if he hadn't just heard it outloud. "Russo sent me. He asked me to take care of 'Carrots'." Delia's probably the name he wants to use, but carrots is the one that Russo would use.

He hopes it gives him leverage.

"I'm glad you're packing," he adds, a thankful and polite tone to his voice, as he moves in closer to Delia, looking at the younger girl, the curly red head, even leaning in to lower his voice for mostly her, as he puts a hand on the arm trying to pull things out of the duffle bag. "You didn't catch tonight's Advocate— don't worry, your brother will probably be able to talk his way out of jailtime and just take a fine, one he can luckily afford."

Or that's the best case scenerio. "But it's best you not be found here. That would cause more questions, I think."

Delia just looks stunned at the assistant producer's entrance and her eyebrows twitch into a small frown. "I— but— " The hand on her arm doesn't do much to calm her tense muscles and she just looks up at the man, her sponsor with a confused expression. "I don't have anywhere else to go.." the pathetic whimper almost makes her sick on the inside. She used to be so strong. "Where's Brad? What happened to him? Rosa's not making any sense. She said something about a big light?"

Rosa's nod as Kincaid keeps Delia from pulling more things out of the bags is all the gratitude he receives. Soon, the older woman is tossing things at him that also need to be packed. She is off to find more bags.

"Who is going to catch me here? How long am I leaving for? Where am I going to go?" The young woman presses her lips into a thin line in an attempt to keep her tears from flowing. In a bid for comfort, she grabs her iPad and hugs it to her chest. Since the last time he's seen her, the young woman looks a little healthier. She's gained some weight and seems a lot more in control of her vocals.

"He manifested. Everyone will know by tomorrow if they don't already," Kincaid says in a rather frank tone, as he reaches for some of the discarded things to help shove them back in. While she looks more healthy, he looks like someone decided to punch him in the face a few times since she last saw him. His eyebrow is split, his lip is split, and there's more than a few bruises that might make someone think a fist hit him.

"It wasn't business, these— it was personal stuff," he adds, realizing that she may think he got himself beat up by Humanis First, considering their last conversation.

"For starters, I'm taking you to my place. It's not that far, there's no standard check points between here and there…" He's travelled it enough. Hopefully she won't have to spend the trip in the trunk. Maybe the back seat. "I'm going to see if the number I have for your dad still works, if not— you're stuck with me for a while."

The redhead's eyes grow wide and her jaw just drops when the news hits. "H-he— But— I— " Slowly, Delia joins Kincaid in packing her things, though she's much slower at it than he is. "I don't think they have phones where my dad is…" she says quietly, her lips downturn in a slight frown and she stops to actually fold a t-shirt before tucking it away. "I won't be able to take my iPad either." Slowly, her shoulders droop and she begins taking a few things out to fold them.

"You should have gotten stitches," she emits in a low tone as he points out his injuries. She hadn't exactly noticed, being too panicked to take a good look at the man, until he actually pointed it out. "Too late for it now, but we can probably glue it together." Furrowing her eyebrows, she glances back up at Kincaid to try to catch his eye. "When will I be able to come back?"

"I'll still try, never hurts to try," Kincaid says, trying to smile at her, even if she's giving his face a critical eye. The eyebrow looks like he got it seen to, at least in the form of a piece of tape to hold it together. But even that doesn't mean it didn't need stitches. "I'm okay," he says, looking at the drooping shoulders, and the sad face, touching her upper arm in an attempt to soothe her.

"I honestly don't know. He was registered non-evolved, so they will likely suspect he cheated the system somehow. And his ability is potentially dangerous…" he trails off. "He's a good talker. I hope he can talk his way out of anything worse than a fine."

But there's still worry. "He could have ran as soon as it happened, but I think he stayed behind to keep them from finding you. You're very important to him, and I'm going to keep you safe, I promise." The promise is genuine, even from a beat up face with too dark eyes.

"He has to be able to talk his way out of it…" Delia murmurs quietly. As they finish packing up, she glances up at Kincaid and places her iPad into the duffel, making sure it's well cushioned between the clothes. "Do I… still have the same rules at your place that I do here?" She doesn't specify exactly what those rules are. Almost as though she expects him to know, and she's not elaborating at all.

Shuffling to the other side of the bed, she gets off the bed just long enough to ease herself into the wheelchair. She's gotten good at that part, even though she can't wheel herself more than a few laps around the apartment. "And do you think we could go for walks and stuff? I haven't been outside for long since I woke up. Just from here to the car and back again for physio."

"I have no idea what the rules are," Kincaid says with a scratch at his hair, that's gotten shaggy along the edges. He had almost been tempted to get it cut close again, cause Walter cheats and pulls hair like a girl. Instead he just intends to getting beat up by hair pullers, cause he always liked his hair better with some length.

"But if you're feeling up to it, we can go for a walk. It's freezing right now, though, and my place isn't exactly the best… I'm going to have to carry you up and down the stairs, if you can't do them, cause no elevator, but it's only one flight up." It could have been a lot worse. Even then, he laughs a bit, scratching his chin before he goes back to helping pack. "You couldn't be short, could you."

"Well.. Brad wouldn't let Nick come over as much as I would have liked," Delia begins slowly. Her sly expression can't exactly be missed, especially with the exchange that Kincaid witnessed about the man on the assistant producer's previous visit. "I mean, you probably wouldn't want him to come over too much either, right? But it'd be okay if he came over when you were around? Same rules as Brad had?"

She wheels herself close to the duffel bag and drags it onto her lap, gently arranging it for comfort. "Stairs are a problem for me, I can barely wheel myself around as it is. I might be able to crawl up them though, as long as you're not timing me or anything because I'm not going to win any races." A weak smile is delivered to the dark eyed man and the corners of her eyes squint just a little, though none of it really reaches her eyes. "Why is it so important to you that I don't get caught? I mean… I know why Brad doesn't want it… but why you?"

"He can visit, sure," Kincaid says, looking around to see if there's any last minute things they might need to grab and carry along. One might hope they don't find any reason to sweep the apartment for DNA and bag and tag everything, cause there's more than enough here that he's not sure they could clean up.

Short of setting the apartment of fire. Not something he's willing to do right now.

Moving behind the wheelchair once he's sure she has most everything, he grabs onto the handles and begins to push toward the door. "What's that old saying— don't look a gift horse in the mouth?" he says, though there's a tone of question in it, like he's not quite sure why that saying means what it means, but he knows it means that. "Your brother wants you to be kept safe, and I've known people in similar trouble. I'd want people to help them, if they needed it."

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