...And The Lack Thereof


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Scene Title …And The Lack Thereof
Synopsis Cat tries to talk to a very grumpy Lynette about the incident at Quinn's show.
Date March 22, 2011

Pollepel Island: Forest

There's no doubt that Lynette heard Cat's call after her on her way out of the rather volatile meeting, but the woman kept a steady walk away regardless. Her father taught her the adage if you don't have anything nice to say. Or a variation of it, anyway, being a lawyer and very careful about his words.

Plus, stomping off helps shake off her temper, somewhat, her hands plunged deep into her jacket pockets as she cuts a path from the burial grounds straight to the castle. You know what else is good for taking the edge off her temper? Vodka.

With her question unanswered, Cat is moving along the same path Lynette takes, letting just a scant passage of moments occur before she asks it again in a calm voice.

"When you went to Robyn Quinn's gig, you suddenly left. What's up with that?"

Having been lightly slapped earlier, Cat is herself fuming a bit, and wondering if getting her answer will mean having a fight. She's fairly certain her knowledge of anatomy and Krav Maga would handle things in her favor if so, but with Lynette there's a variable which makes the possibility unattractive.

That she might have to take on a suddenly formed batch of ten naked Lynettes.

"I hate crowds," Lynette snaps back without stopping her walk ahead. It's an obvious lie, of course, but perhaps she's not in a sharing mood. There's no sign of more than one Lynette showing up, though! Because, truth be told, she's not much of a brawler. And likes keeping it that way.

A sound that's a combo of brief chuckle and snort escapes Cat on hearing Lynette's reply. "What I heard was people showed up looking for you and I that night. I've got photos of them, from other times they went snooping around the Verb, I spent some time reviewing things after that night, one of the agents I recognize for having been at Moab prison."

A few beats of silence pass, Cat keeping up with the potential source of cloned gang, but not decreasing the physical distance between them.

"How'd you get tipped off?"

"So if you already knew why I left, why in the world are you asking me?" Lynette does look at her then, her hands going to her hips. "And if someone told you people were looking for me, maybe you should ask them how I got tipped off, hmm?" Her hands drop again and she turns to continue her walk. "They seem far more willing to talk!"

"I don't think they know," is the easy answer, "and I far prefer to hear things directly instead of by hearsay, at second or third hand." With Lynette having stopped to face her briefly Cat moves a few paces closer, hands going into a garment under her light hooded jacket and coming out with a few printed photos. Images of Linda Tavara, Delgado, and Espenosa.

There is a glance at the photos, but no recognition from Lynette before she takes up her walk again. "Who did you talk to anyway? About people looking for me. Seems that's second enough hand in and of itself, unless someone was literally asking around. Which I sort of doubt."

"Quinn said she thinks tabs are being kept on her when we conversed a few days after the gig," Cat replies evenly, "she wanted to meet but I recommended she not endanger herself. Then she remarked it might be too late, something happened at the show. I asked what happened, she said the Avengers were looking for you and me."

"The Avengers?" Lynette lifts an eyebrow at that, "I do hope that's not what they're calling themselves." She folds her arms, a guard against the cold as well as a fairly fitting visual for her mood. "Why does it matter how I knew to get out? It isn't like they got what they were after."

"I think that was Quinn's choice of what to call them," Cat remarks, "though vengeance might be on their minds, or their boss's. I think they were with Colonel Heller's Frontline unit. Obviously, since they were hunting us, it would be really good to learn as much as we can about them. That means a conversation with whoever warned you of danger that night."

"Why don't I have a conversation with who warned me, and see if they're in the mood to be interviewed about it. And I'll let you know. I don't much relish the idea of sending people to an interrogation without at least a warning," Lynette says, eyeing Cat a little there. "Is that all, Catherine or is there anything else pressing on your mind?"

"That would work," Cat replies as she extends those three images to be taken, "you could also ask yourself what the source knows about these people and who they work for. Numbers, abilities, backgrounds… At least one of them was at Moab as a prisoner on the day it was attacked."

And with that, her piece regarding the gig seems to have been said, she's moving on.

"It was a good show Quinn had that night," Cat remarks on feet carrying her toward the castle.

Lynette takes the papers, giving them a better look over, but there's a shake of her head. "I'll ask. And if they want to talk about it, I'll let you know." She lets Cat go on her way, not making moves to follow this time. "Well, I'm hardly surprised there," seem to be her farewell words on the quality of Quinn's show. She didn't see most of it in person, but she did get one of the copies Quinn had made.

The papers get folded and slid into a pocket to protect them against the rain as she makes her own path toward the castle. It's too bad she can't get those to her double over on the mainland.

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