Participants:
| Scene Title | Adopted, but Not |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | "Agent Clemens" runs into "Caitlyn" again, and finds out that the young woman is homeless. What little good is left in the "FBI Agent" tugs at her heartstrings, and she decides that this is a job for the Ferry. |
| Date | December 14, 2010 |
Somewhere on the streets of Chinatown, a fifteen year old teen is practicing. She's practicing in-line skating, to be exact. Wearing white skates with pink clasps and four nice pink wheels on each skate, they're definitely 'girly'.
It's a good thing, then, that Anna is a girl. Because that means nobody will give her odd looks for having girly skates. They might give her odd looks because she keeps falling over, and the like, but that's a different matter.
She's definitely still in need of quite a bit of practice. But hey! She's trying. She's doing her very best to learn how to get around on those things, and that shows. Because no matter how many times she falls over, she gets up to try again.
Lola hates the cold. She loves the holidays, but she hates the cold. So she's bundled up in a long black coat as she makes her way up from Canal. She pauses at a little kiosk where a man is looking at handbags. Standing close, she murmers to him. Something along the lines of 'if your wife has eyes, she'll hate you forever, that's faker than the set of boobs you bought her for your aniversary.'
"You wanna buy handbag?" A short chinese man asks of the Cajun woman. She pauses, smiling that mischevious grin. "No. But Ah am lookin' ta sell if ya got a mind to." The man shakes his head, waves at her like she's an evil thing, and turns to go back down teh street. Lola sticks her tongue out at him.
Well, Anna has gotten up again. And this time? This time she's accidentally headed straight to bump into Lola and fall over again. Not that it's what she wants… it's just what's going to happen if Lola doesn't notice and step aside. No matter whether Lola steps aside or not, however, the teen is going to end up with her pretty bum on the ground again. And that event is accompanied by a pained yelp.
Lola stumbles forward a bit as she's truck, almost accosting the Chinese man. That would have hurt her potntial for business. Angry, she turns around, and then she sees Anna on the ground. Oh, who was she for this girl again? Right, FBI Agent. Of course. Bending down, hands on her knees, Lola looks right at the girl on the ground.
"Ya know, Ah could bring ya in fer accostin' folks on teh street. Won' look nice on yer purdy record there."
"Oh really." Anna answers, biting it out. "Ever heard of accidents?" She pushes herself up, and by the looks of it, she might just fall over again within minutes, if not faster. "And haven't they fired you yet? I mean, why in the name of God would the FBI allow stupid thieves like you to work for them?"
"The kind what got enough sense not ta knock little brats silly when they open they're dumbass mouths." It's funny, even as Lola is busy tearing down Anna verbally, her hand reaches out, as if to catch the girl's elbow, should she fall again. She likes causing trouble - people don't need to get hurt for it! "Listen darlin, ya really gotta stop shoutin' at folks sayin' they is what they ain'. More importantly, ya gotta stop doin' it ta folks that can do damage ta yer pretty little self, just in case they don' care what ya say, but don' like how ya say it."
"Fun. And you have to get me my phone back." Anna bites, clearly not interested in listening. She does accept the help in standing upright for some reason or other, however. "Things can hardly get worse, so I'm not all that afraid." Anna clearly isn't aware of the idea things can always get worse.
"Ya still got four limbs, aincha?" Lola asks, watching the girl curiously. "Well then yer better off'n some folks are. An fer folks with three limbs 'er less, that's sayin' a great deal. Now Ah get that little Yank teenagers are overly-attached to their phones - what ta be textin' all their BFFs and whatnot - but ya lost yer phone, darlin. Ya gotta move on. Ain' there more important things what deserve yer attention? Specially around Christmas?"
"What? Like the fact I'm homeless, the fact I don't have any friends to my name anymore?" Anna bites, she's in the mood to bite apparently, and Lola is the perfect target. "Or the fact that the last person I trusted turned out to want to turn me into a suicide bomber or something to that effect?"
Lola's eyes go a little bit wider. "What? Whoah whoah whoah sugar," Lola drawls, turning toward the girl. "Homeless? Suicide bomber? When'd all this happen? What happened?" She actually looks a little - well, concerned. How strange! "Here darlin', step outta the way so folks can walk by." Lola helps nudge the girl aside if she'll allow. "Now slow down. Homless? Ain' they got things like foster homes fer girlies like you?"
"More like prisons." Anna seems to calm down a little, "I need my freedom, and places like that thrive on robbing you of as many of those as they can." The teen follows along with Lola's nudging. "As for what happend, I don't care to share, understood?"
"Alright darlin, Ah understand." She sighs, frowning as she looks around. "Well now Ah gotta find a place ta stash ya - homeless, that ain' gonna do. Ah dunno how ya Yanks make it around this town what with heaters. Without 'em? In the winter? Hell no." She frowns, lifting her hands and blowing into them as she looks around thoughtfully.
"What, you think I'm gonna go along with you?" Anna almost seems amused by the thought, but she shakes it off soon enough. "What makes you think I'd trust you?" Pause, "It's not like I've ever shown you any trust in the past, you know?"
"Hush up, Ah'm tryin' ta think," Lola says, taking out a cigarette and lighting it - this time without her expensive lighter. She inhales and exhales the smoke thoughtfully. "Naw sugar, Ah don' expect ya ta come live with me. An truth be told that ain' really in the cards, neither." Lola has more explosives, guns and illegal substances hidden around her apartment, she doesn't need a snoopy kid there. "An Ah ain' gonna ask ya ta go noplace with me. But that don' mean Ah'mma let ya wander 'round in the cold neither. Ah'm sure Ah kin find a place ta get ya set up…"
"If you want me to shut up, least you can do is pass me a smoke. I've been craving for a smoke for days." Anna grumbles as she leans against the wall and crosses her skates. She looks stable enough that way, at least. "So hard to get a proper pack of smokes when you're not having any spare cash, you know?"
Lola looks thoughtfully at the girl. But hey, she's not her mother. She hands over the pack. "Those things'll kill ya," she warns the younger girl, but that doesn't stop her from handing over the pack, or from smoking herself. And then Lola just stares down at Anna. Just stares, thoughtfully. She's going to have to put the girl someplace. And someone wants her to be a suicide bomber - that can't be good. OF course, the brat is just that - a brat. But Lola's heart isn't totally black yet. So she just stares, thinking.
The teen flicks out a smoke and lights in fire with her own lighter, "Thanks." She says as she hands back the pack, "And yeah, yeah, I know all about those things killing. Have heard that story often enough before." Pause, "Some guy even recommended I switch to pot because that was supposedly healthier."
Lola scoffs. "An it'll make ya dumb as a bag a nails so when somebody wants ta take advantage a yer stupidity it ain' hard. Naw sugar, ya gotta smoke, fill yer lungs with tar. Least ye'll have yer wits." The Cajun sighs, tossing the cigarette away. "Alright then brat, what's yer name? If Ah'mma be puttin' ya up Ah'd best know yer name."
"Caitlyn." Anna lies. But at least it's a name she has used before. "Caitlyn Pierce." The teen inhales a puff of smoke, and then blows out a neat circle of smoke. Yep, she's definitely not new to smoking, "What was yours again, miss FBI?" A faint chuckle.
Lola waves a dismissive hand. "Shit if Ah remember. Come on, Caity Cat, lets get yer shit together. Ah think Ah gotta place Ah kin stash ya. May not have TV or nothin' but it'll have a bed an hot water an a heater, which Ah imagine is more'n ya got right now, hmm?" She keeps a hand near Anna's elbow to support it in case she decides to take a dive again.
Anna nods, "Okay, so what is this place you're talking about, huh?" She asks, "It'd better not be a fucking foster home or anything of that sort, I can't deal with that again." A faint shrug, "But if it's not anything of that kind, I'm sure I can take a look inside, see if it's to my liking."
"Well lookit little miss Homless hopin' things are 'ta her likin,'" Lola rolls her eyes. "Old converted hotel. It's in a shitty part a town what don' ask questions. Don' got a full kitchen, as Ah recall - Ah remember lookin' at the area fer an extra flop-space. Can never have too many, hmm? An if we go," she points at Anna. "No boys, Ah ain' offerin' ta set ya up ta turn tricks now, alright? Smokin' Ah kin handle an if ya need shit ta do Ah'll be by with some food. But…yeah, no boys. An Ah spoze no drugs. Ah mean, they'll just dumb ya up an ye'll be walkin' home one day an then BAM, yer gettin' raped. So, yeah. None a that neither."
"What, do I look like a whore to you?" Anna bites at that comment about 'turning tricks', "I might be homeless, but I ain't a fucking whore." Fact, that. True and wholesome fact. "But okay, that sounds like a decent enough place to me." She shrugs and follows along.
"Ah met plenty a whores what don' look like 'em." She decides. "Figure it best not ta judge ya by yer looks - folks don' always look like what they really are, ya know?" A 15 year old girl can probbaly get on board with that. "Ah don' wantcha walkin' 'round at night, either, if it can be avoided. Ya kin call me ta get ya from point A ta point B if ya need. Like Ah said, shitty neighborhood, but they won' ask 'bout ya shackin' up in a place on yer lonesome so long as Ah slip 'em some under the table. Don' mean ya shouldn' be lookin' fer a job though."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Anna doesn't seem to be in the best mood, but at least she's coming along with Lola. For now, anyway. "And my last job kinda went down the drain what with the whole homeless thing." And the part she's on the run, but she can't mention that. Not to an 'FBI Agent', anyway. "So, why are you doing all this for me?"
Lola looks down at the girl and sighs, stopping for a moment. "Cause darlin, Ah know this'll sound stupid, but ya run yer mouth like me. When Ah first came ta New York, real shit of a fellah done told me that the job…well, that job an this city was gonna destroy me. Ah thought he was full of it. Sure enough, four bullet holes, one electrocution, way too many syringes full a drugs an a whole buncha people thinkin' Ah'm better off dead, Ah believe him. An you…well, lets just say Ah didn' have the time a day ta survive all the shit Ah done survived a late, an ya got even less than Ah had."
"That sucks." Understatement of the year, probably. "But I kinda can't look for any jobs, not any legit ones anyway. There's… problems with that." Another big time understatement. "And I'm not sure I'd want to take the risks involved with illicit jobs, ya know? I'd rather stay on the right side of the law for a while."
"We'll figure out somethin' for ya, sugar," Lola says, leading Anna down the street again. "Just cause Ah'm helpin' a brat from freezin' don' mean Ah give free rides. Ya wanna be on yer own from them foster homes, yer gonna have ta have some responsibility what goes with it. Now c'mon," she urges the girl on. "Ah wanna get inside afore Ah freeze mah ass off."
Well, Anna follows along as urged. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." The teen complains, "But I can't take on any legit jobs, so I dunno what else I'd be doing…" This all should raise dozens of questions from any proper law enforcement officer. On the other hand, most of them would go unanswered by the teen.
"There's jobs. Legit, half-legit, an somethin' under the table. Like Ah said, we'll worry about it, alright? Just get yer ass in gear. Do ya got any stuff we gotta pick up?" She asks, glancing around. Just to, you know, make sure they aren't followed.
"Where would I be stashing said stuff?" Anna points out, "I mean, if I had a place to stash stuff, I wouldn't be homeless, now would I?" A faint shrug, and it doesn't appear that the two are being followed. "But fine, I'll try to get myself a source of income. But I won't be turning tricks or anything of that sort."
Lola sighs, shaking her head. She's totally going ot have to turn this kid over to the ferry ASAP. "Alright alright, darlin'. We'll worry about it later, arlgiht? Fer now lets just get ya there." And she turns down the street, one hand still guiding Anna by her elbow in order to get her back to Red Hook and someplace warm until she can contact Smedley.