An Ear Out


devon2_icon.gif elisabeth_icon.gif

Scene Title An Ear Out
Synopsis When recognition comes in random encounters, it helps to be listening later on.
Date May 2, 2011

Central Park

Mornings bring about a myriad of people to the park, runners and cyclists, dog walkers and business folk, everyone's got a purpose for being out. Few people visit a coffee cart, lost in conversation on ear pieces as they carry away overpriced drinks or pastries. Some idlers fill out benches with no purpose but to watch the passers by and feed pigeons. But despite the variants of visitors, there numbers aren't huge. It's still early enough that some people haven't left home yet.

The earliness of the hour, for one come to the park, isn't normally a problem. Devon'd had a reason to leave home early only to discover the task couldn't be completed after all. A movement in haste leaving behind the project he'd intended to work on. With not enough time to return home then come out again before work, he'd gotten himself one of those overpriced coffees. Still with time enough to kill, he makes his way with coffee in hand, scouting for a bench on which to sit.

It's the very earliness that draws out one person. It's cool enough that wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie with her ponytail tucked into the hood itself doesn't look remotely unusual. Elisabeth can join the ranks of those running the park's paths without fearing that anyone is looking too closely, and she avoids the paths that she used to use regularly, choosing instead an entirely different section of the park to run in. Which is how she winds up in the same vicinity as a baby terrorist who carried a gun into a semi-formal social gathering not too long ago wherein Elisabeth sort of made a spectacle of herself by gushing blood out of her nose after making a rather loud announcement.

He still carries that very same gun, too. But a look at Devon wouldn't reveal that knowledge. He's a t-shirt and jeans guy, very typical of his age group even on a morning when he should be in the suit and tie that Mister Russo prefers of his employees. Or at least his intern. Locating first an unoccupied bench, the teenager veers to step off the path. His motives are paused by a flicker of movement, a jogger approaching that appears at least vaguely familiar. He watches Elisabeth's approach, brows knitting together slightly in regard.

The blonde is watchful of her surroundings, steering clear of getting too close to anyone. Not wanting anyone to get too good a look at her face. The fact that the young man by the bench notices her isn't exactly something problematic — Elisabeth's a pretty enough woman to know that men will look. That said, however, she's also savvy enough to realize that when his eyes don't veer away in a certain amount of time, he might be getting too good a look. She adjusts her path a bit to take her behind his bench instead of in front of it. He'll have to be obvious if he's staring at her. And in the meantime, her blue eyes are taking in the entire surroundings and working on identifying the man. It's not until she's close that the face finally registers — last time she saw him was through a haze of pain and blood. She slows to a walk, far enough away to break into a sprint to get the heck away if she needs to but close enough that if he's a friend or something he could hail her.

Lifting his coffee, Devon takes a measured sip, eyes continuing to follow the woman's movement. There's recognition in his expression, if not the where or when, but he doesn't look like he's out to get her. His eyes flick away briefly, a habitually nervous survey of the surroundings and possibly a sign that he, too, is wary of undesirable people listening in. His approach on the bench resumes, mindful of Liz's own caution and yet proceeding calmly enough. "G'morning, ma'am," the teen greets with just a hint of a grin, once within easy speaking range that won't draw extra attention.

Cautious blue eyes scan the area and Elisabeth seems to be listening for something. She stops five or so steps from the back of the bench, keeping it between them. "You were at the ballet opening," she begins mildly. "The night Remi Davignon was attacked. Right?"

Turning slightly, Devon lowers himself to sit on the bench. His attention splits, keeping an account on where Elisabeth herself stands, but watching the space in front of him. "I was at a photo exhibit opening," he replies. He could be speaking about the weather from the day before. "You were there. Or maybe your twin."

It's been a long couple of months. Elisabeth reaches up and rubs her forehead. "Right," she murmurs quietly. Damn, seriously, Harrison? Didn't think you'd lose your edge that fast. Going to get your ass killed. She frowns slightly. "Things were kind of crazy that night," she admits. "Sorry."

"They were," Devon agrees quietly. A single shoulder rises then falls in a shrug over the apology. "Things have been crazy all over. No need to apologize, though. —I don't bite." Nor does he plan on shooting anyone, nor chasing after any kinds of news stories. "You don't have reason to trust me, but you can sit if you'd like."

Elisabeth watches him thoughtfully. And then she approaches the bench a bit closer. "I don't at this moment have a lot of reason to distrust you either. Aside from the whole… wanted terrorist angle," she admits candidly. "Who are you? I seem to have a memory of you pulling a weapon that night or something, yeah?"

"Devon Clendaniel," the young man offers, along with a tilt of his head and an outstretched hand. Empty, and an archaic gesture to show no weapons. "And you're correct, unfortunately. Those pictures and the protests… Hits a little close to home." Despite the discomfort of recalling Jaiden's captured images, he's grace enough to look a little sheepish over the gun wielding incident. "As for terrorists, it's a label the government likes to slap on people who stand up for what they believe in."

"That kind of talk will get you thrown in Evo Gitmo if you're not careful, Mr. Clendaniel," Elisabeth replies softly. She studies him a moment more and then moves to take his hand hesitantly. "Elisabeth Harrison," she returns the introduction though she figures based on his comment that it's not really required to identify her. "Jaiden's got a good eye. I'm glad that he was able to put the show on."

His is a firm handshake, confident yet respectful still of her wariness. "Who I associate with might get me there faster," Devon counters with a grin, a brow raising slightly. "Jaiden's good. Still think those pictures shouldn't have been shared, too many raw memories and it still doesn't help anyone understand what went on in there." With a small shake of his head, he spares another glance toward the pathway. "But I was privy to things I don't think he or other mutual friends experienced and have a darker view on what was really going down."

Tilting her head, Elisabeth takes her hand back and studies him. "Really." It's not entirely a question. She seems curious. "What kind of things were you privy to that you don't think he knew about?"

"I know they conned some poor Evolved into creating the Dome." Devon sets his coffee aside, then folds his arms over his chest. "I know the man that conceived the idea, I've seen him and heard his name. Even tried to kill the man, though I won't believe he actually died until I see his body." He glances over his shoulder to Liz, brows pinching together once more. "I'm also betting on the idea was to destroy Roosevelt Island. Or near enough. They had another Evolved on the remaining boat doing who knows what to her. She set the wheelhouse on fire and if it had gone further?"

Pursing her lips, Elisabeth moves to the end of the bench. "Huh," she comments. "You know the mastermind behind the Dome," she muses. "And…. you didn't take this to the police… why?" she asks.

"Besides lacking evidence," Devon looks back to the pathway, eyes following the line of dark asphalt. "If he's not the mastermind behind it, he certainly had a large role in it. And as it stands, I wouldn't put faith in the police to do anything now nor have done anything then in support of Evolved community. As likely to find myself in your Evo Gitmo if I took it to them."

She shifts her weight and crosses her arms. "Who're you accusing in this?" Elisabeth asks quietly. Not as if she disbelieves but as if she's truly wondering if he has information that could be of use.

Pale eyes flick toward Elisabeth then back to the path. It isn't Devon's lack of confidence in what he witnessed and experienced that causes hesitation, but the admittance to his lack of evidence. But it's the same conclusion he'd come to even when the conversation had come up before, with people closer than an in passing acquaintance. "Valentin," the teenager states the name quietly. "We got the name and his location in the Dome from one of his subordinates."

"I see," Elisabeth says. "Well…. I'll tell you this much. I don't have access to the kinds of tech that would allow me to do a background check with just a last name anymore." She smiles ruefully. "If you want me to look into him — and who he may have been working for to convince the Dome creator to do what he did — I'm going to need more than that."

"I've got resources." Devon casts another look at the woman seated at the other end of the bench, sidelong gaze watching her for a moment. "I know who it was that was running the show on the inside. I don't know if he was working alone and I'm not sure where he's gone since. But I'm fairly certain of where his alliances lie." A pause follows with a more direct look. "And I wouldn't be going through government channels with that information, whatever information you might find."

Elisabeth's blue eyes are intent on him now. "And why would that be?" Sometimes you ask the questions you already know the answers to just to see what someone else has to say.

"Safer to go into a crowded theater and yell fire," Devon states. "If I take that kind of accusation into the government and I'm as good as disappeared. That's not to say there aren't people within the system to be trusted." He pauses, a brow lifting in implication of present company. "But to trust outright and reveal super secret knowledge to the first agent I see? I might as well go in cuffed and negated with a gift bow on my head."

"Well," Elisabeth observes, "Good to know you're not as naive as I initially took you to be." She smiles faintly. "Pulling a firearm at that shindig without a badge to back it up was… pretty dumb," she points out. "That said… not sure there's much I can do for you either."

Once more, the teen has the grace to appear mildly embarrassed. "Reactionary to the stress at the time, the Dome wasn't… a fun experience, and any memory of that place…" He gives a small shake of his head. No need to explain further, everyone deals with it in their own way. Devon's is to shut down and jump at the occasional shadow. "As for what you can do for me, good question. Better one is what can I do for you? I don't have details, besides you going rogue and one of our friends getting tucked away and questioned for several days, and I'm not asking for any. But if you need anything?" The rest remains unsaid as one hand drops to pick up his coffee cup, giving a sip at the tepid liquid.

Now that offer brings Elisabeth to silence for a long few moments. "What is it you do right now in your daytime life?" she asks curiously. As if she might be considering something.

"I work," Devon says as he eyes the coffee cup. "Sometimes. It's an internship that's coming to an inevitable end, so I have less hours than I use to. I volunteer some time for a newly formed foundation otherwise."

"Aaaaannnnd you have the art of dodging a question while sounding like you answered what was asked," Elisabeth muses. "Interesting resume you're building there."

"I'm an intern at Studio K," Devon clarifies with a grin. "At the moment. And I volunteer for a new foundation, something that's picking up where the Suresh Center left off."

Elisabeth mmms wordlessly. And then she nods. "Then I suppose that if I need something, word will make its way to you, Devon." The blonde smiles slightly, her blue eyes still wary and perhaps even a hint dangerous. "If your credentials check out and you're not fucking with me…. we might talk soon. I've got a half-formed plan that might require a good recording studio." She starts to turn on a heel but pauses long enough to add, "I'm sure Jaiden will speak for you, yeah?" If he doesn't, well….

"You'd get the report you're looking for from the man with the horse," Devon offers with a shrug. "I know who Jaiden is, but he doesn't really know me." Graeme at least is a far more regular companion, and someone he knows has associations with Elisabeth. "And, ma'am, if I had reason to fuck with you, I wouldn't have given you any information." Nor would he have tried to make contact, though it goes unsaid. "Nice meeting you, though."

She shoots him a cheeky grin that lightens her expression dramatically, giving her an almost flirtatious look. "If you had reason to fuck with me," Elisabeth corrects easily, "you'd give me just enough information to whet my appetite and wait for me to take the bait, kiddo. I've already proven that I'll usually rise to that challenge when it's tossed in my path." She winks at him and starts walking backward away from the bench on the trail. Her voice wafts back to him, enhanced just a little so as to tease his ears lightly with no need to shout. "Be careful out there. And if you need anything… drop word with the guy with the horse. He'll get it to me."

A grin responds to the wink, toothy and quite boyish. But there's no return to the correction except a roll of his shoulders. "Stay safe yourself," Devon replies with a wave, and a little more sincerity in his tone. "I'll have an ear out."

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