And There It Is


lance_icon.gif robyn_icon.gif

Scene Title And There It Is
Synopsis A small reunion, and proof that the more things change…
Date May 13, 2018

Red Hook Market

It'd been a while now, since Robyn Quinn had been back inside Safe Zone - at least by her standards. Ever since the incident at Yamagato she hasn't felt much like being close to home. This weekend, though, she's made her way back for no real reason other than to retrieve some things from her Bay Ridge home to take back with her to Rochester.

And also, grocery shopping, both for herself and for home. She never has liked leaving Dirk to do everything around the house. That wasn't how things worked in their apartment, at least not before she started having to work out of Rochester. From the looks of things though, nothing has particularly caught her eye, passing by a pair of food stalls and a small, hole in the wall bookseller stall as she looks around for something interesting.

Which is always a little dangerous when your vision is impaired and things tend to blend together, but she hasn't run into anything yet - it might be a new personal best for her.

At least, yet. "Thanks, Mister Grant," Lance calls cheerfully back into the bookseller's stall as he emerges from it with a stack of books in his arms - amateur ham radio, radio broadcasting, the history of pirate radio, and a cheerfully-colored book entitled simple 'slimes, oozes, and other gunk!' - and almost walks right into Robyn in the process since he's not looking where he's going.

"Whoa— " He reels back, staggering left and right to re-balance the books, "Oh, uh, sorry!"

Well, there goes that personal best.

It's as much Robyn's fault as it is Lance's. As hewavers back and forth she stops and steps back, gaze locking on to the young man. For once she doesn't look too formal, dressed in a sleeveless black dress, leggings, boot, an her eyeband. But even with that and the scar up one of her cheeks, it's probably not that hard to recognise Robyn Quinn once she holds up her hands and laughs.

For her part, she doesn't recognise Lance, not yet. It's been years for her after all. "Excusez-moi!" she exclaims, looking to make sure none of his books fell to the floor. "Gosh. Was so lost in thought, I didn't-" she stops, waving a hand back and forth in a familiar motion. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, no, it's okay, my fault," Lance laughs as he stabilizes his tower-o-books once more, bracing them against his chest and setting his chin on them, "Should've watched where I was— " Then he pauses, squinting at her. It helps, of course, that one of them had already run into her and reported in, including the she's French now facet of the agent's changes in the past few years.

Blink, blink. "Quinn?"

Robyn blinks as she straightens her dress, head canting slightly to the side as she regards the young man in front of her. "This is happening more often than I should be comfortable with," she muses out loud, suddenly straightening her posture and crossing her arms. "You have me at a disadvantage."

But after a moment, her expression softens into a smile. "Wait, no. Let me see if I can figure this out." She taps a finger on her shoulder, looking him up and down. "Late teens, to early twenties, recognises me. You're either someone's kid, or-" Her smile widens. "A Lighthouse Kid. Like Joe, whom I saw recently." She narrows her eyes, leaning forward a bit. "Caucasian, dark hair, but not dark enough to be black - likely a shade of brown." Even it just like looks like shades of grey to he. "Not Justin or Paul, based on that, and not old enough to be Bray."

She smirks, leaning back a bit as she looks at him and nods. "Lance. It's been years."

"You got me," Lance says with a broad grin, apparently pleased at her detectiv-ing on display, "Lance Gerken, at your service, although I can't bow right now because I'm holding all of these books." A chuckle stirs under his breath, one shoulder coming up in a shrug, "So it is what it is - been a long time, uh, Joe said you weren't so thrilled to be recognized, I can leave you be if you want…?" Uncertainty, there, but he's polite enough to offer her the out.

"Well. Nice to know I haven't lost anything being out of the field." Robyn isn't a detective, but she's learned to be more perceptive and logical in the years since she last saw Lance, or any of the other Lighthouse Kids., "Joe…" She takes a bit of a breath. "No, you're fine. When I saw Joe, he was… running his mouth a bit. Bothered a young girl." A pause, and she shakes her head. "Well, we all did. But still." She stops, looking around. "Chairs around the corner, if you'd wish to sit. How have you been?"

"Oh. Yeah." Lance's nose wrinkles a little, "That's… Joe, alright. Sorry about that. He's been, I don't know, I think part of him misses the old days when everything was go-go-go. He's having a hard time— settling down." Then he grins, "Yeah, sure, lead the way— I mean, I've been alright. Most of us are staying together, at least the ones in the Safe Zone…"

"It's fine," Robyn repeats, turning and waving for Ray to follow her as she walks her way through the Sunday afternoon crowd at the market. The tables are typically reserved for people grabbing a bite at one of the food stalls, but no one seems to mind when the pair of them take a seat. "To be fair," Robyn admits as she relaxes in her seat, "Joe is far from the only one having trouble relaxing. Some more than others, but…" She offers a bit of a shrug. "Hope the lot f you haven't gotten into too much trouble."

The books are thumped down onto the edge of the table, and Lance drops himself to sit; he's dressed in jeans and a worn grey hoodie, not really standing out in the rest of the crowd. He rolls one arm a bit, testing his shoulder and elbow with a grimace, then he's back to smiling easily again, "Eh. Probably more trouble than we should be, but, you know how it goes— life's weird, especially for slices like us. Still, we've picked up some new friends, and things could be worse. What about you, what are you up to these days?"

"Life's weird. Few truer words." Robyn smirks, shaking her head. One hand reaches into her bag, before she pauses, and instead folds both quietly into her lap. "I have to admit, I always dread this question," she admits, her smirk widening. "But I think I May enjoy it this time." A hand slips back into her bag, this time withdrawing her badge, which she holds up to show to Lance. "Don't worry. I'm not here to keep an eye on anyone."

"Oh! Primal, uh— " Lance offers a sheepish sort of grin, "So do you know Agent Bowie, then?" That's definitely a we got into trouble look on the teenager's face, so easily identifiable despite all the years that've passed.

Robyn feigns a deep breath, rolling her eyes dramatically, "You boys and your trouble," she says in an exasperated voice. She chuckles, shaking her head. "Yes, I do. I saw your names on his investigation board. You and Joe." She smirks. "Some things never change, do they? Still, you're okay, so I assume no harm done." She taps her finger on the table. "Though I can't speak to that, I'm afraid. It's official business, and I have enough trouble with conflict of interests lately. Just stay safe, the both of you."

Lance's nose wrinkles at the mention of them being on a board somewhere. "We were just trying to help," he admits, "It was our idea that led them down there, after all. And I don't think Will will talk to them— anyway, anyway, right. Conflicts of interest, nevermind that." He shrugs a bit, "Other than some weird shit like that going on, everyone's okay." He leaves out the hospital time most of them had recently.

Another laugh is what Lance gets in response. "Between you and me?" Robyn leans forward a bit, her visible eye focused on Lance. "Nothing wrong with trying to help. Think it's great, really." She carefully slides her badge back into her bag and reclines back again. "If you're ever interested in doing it more officially, let me know." Looking at the books, she motions to them. "What did you pick up to read? I don't get to read as much as I used to."

"I somehow don't think they'd let us help officially at all," Lance chuckles, and then he glances to the stack— pausing, he shrugs, "Eh, I was trying to figure out what to do with, you know, myself. Brynn suggested I maybe try and get a job at that radio station, like, I could use my ability to keep any noise out of the sound booth or something."

"So," he motions to the books, "Books on radio."

"WSZC?" There's nothing that's at all hard to read about the wide smile that suddenly forms on Robyn's face as she looks over at the tapes. "I know the DJ." In normal circumstances that would probably warrant a because of course she does, but well… "I'm sure Jolene and Martin would love more help." She studies him for a moment, before sitting up a bit straighter. "I didn't mean with the case." Which is probably out of their hands anyway, as much as Lance may not like it. "Meant in general. Regularly. I-"

She stops, ruefully chuckling as she shakes her head. "Always seems so funny to say this, looking back, but- I meant legit. Get some training. Help out." A small shrug. "A thought. Been thinking it since I saw you on-" the board, which she already shouldn't have mentioned once. Oops.

"You do?" Lance's brows lift interestedly, "I mean, do you think they're really looking for help? I could use an actual job, I mean, this side shit I do isn't really bringing in a lot of money…" A rueful admission, "'Normal life' is harder than we thought." He scratches at his chin, then, leaning back, "What d'you mean? Like, Brian gave us all plenty of training. I can pick locks, infiltrate buildings, field strip an AK-47…"

Paramilitary teenagers at loose in the city. Be afraid.

"Not really super useful making money thought."

Robyn stares at him in a bit of shock. "That is… not at all what I meant." She seems a bit bewildered, gaze slightly askew as she studies him again. "I don't know any of that. Or well, I didn't." She knows most of it now. "I started from scratch. Training for Raith, infiltration using my ability. Had to learn not to rely on it, though. Would like to think I make a fine agent."

Yes, Lance, that's what she's getting at.

"But yes. The radio station is just two people, Jolene Chevalier and Martin Pines. I'm sure they'd appreciate help, but…" She lets out a chuckle. "I believe it's all volunteer. Sorry, kiddo."

"Oh." Lance brings a hand up to scratch behind his ear, looking a bit abashed, "I mean, doesn't ever— well, I guess not everyone learns that stuff. Brian insisted." Of course he would have. Then he blinks once, "What, a SESA agent? Me?"

"They're good skills," Robyn replies with a bit of a laugh. "Don't get me wrong. I've never heard much of what Brian had you-" She catches herself, almost saying you kids, "all doing." She'd heard some from Gillian, but that was the extent of it really. She does laugh though, and shake her head. "No, not everyone. Some of us had to learn to be rebels." An earnest joke given with an earnest smile.

With that she gives a small shrug. "It's a thought," is all she says. "Something to consider, if you like helping. Was why I joined, after the war. Was my way of continuing to help." And, as much as she respects Wolfhound, she firmly believes it's a better gig. "Anyway, it couldn't hurt to talk to the folks at WSZC. At the very least, I think you'd have fun. I drop records off there whenever I can."

"Yeah, maybe I'll stop drop by," Lance admits with a shrug of one shoulder, "Can't hurt, right? Maybe I'll figure out something else I can be useful for…"

He looks mildly intrigued, though, at the other idea; a brow lifting, "So what's, uh, what would all that consist of? I mean, I doubt they're hiring eighteen-year olds. Is there some 'SESA Academy' or something?"

"i don't know," Robyn admits with a bit of a laugh. "I joined when they were still spinning up, off the recommendation of a friend. I know we've gotten younger recvruit sometimes, but- maybe there's a process you can start, if you want. My testimony and work with the Ferry meant my training was more on protocol and procedure."

Another small shrug. "Everyone has to start somewhere."

"Huh." Lance leans back in the chair, arms draped over its back, two legs leaving the ground - he balances just about perfectly, though. "I guess that prissy guy with Agent Bowie did seem kind of young, thinking about it… I figured he was just really small. Hm. Agent Gerken. Joe'd have a fit." He laughs, looking upwards at the sky.

Robyn snickers as she shakes her head at Lance. "I get a that. A get a lot of that." Joe included in that. "But it's not so bad." She relaxes again, pointing to Lance. "Rhys. Young, but he's seen some shit," she remarks with a knowing smile.It's an understatement on both counts. "We have a young woman in our department now that's even younger." She leaves her thoughts on Cassandra besides that fact to the side, and instead focuses on Lance. "I'm sorry. I don't know how this turned into me selling you on my job."

Lance snaps his fingers, pointing at Robyn as his head lifts. "Rhys! That was his name. Rhys Bluey or Butler or something?" He grins, then, "I'm not like Joe or my sister, I don't think we're in danger from the government anymore. I hope not, anyway, I mean, half of our old caretakers are part of it now…"

He pauses, "Does it pay well?"

"Well. As long as I'm there? No, there's no danger. And Rhys Bluthner. He's a good egg. Honestly, most everyone there is. Good leadership, good people." Robyn nods, looking agian to Lance's books. "I think they'll understand eventually, Joe and Hailey. You were all rather excitable, you know." Her grin becomes a bit more cheshire. "Well enough. It's nothing to sneeze at." A motion to the books. "If you do go to the radio station, just… be nice. I know you will be, but she's special to me, the DJ. Got it?"

"Got it." Lance leans in a little, brows raising, "That means you're knocking boots with her, right?" He grins that grin he used to grin when he'd glued everyone's shoes to the floor.

If Robyn was drinking something, it would be all over Lance right now. He's managed to catch her entirely by surprise with that comment, choking back a cough as she leans over a bit. When she's finally able to compose herself again, she looks Lance head on and laughs. "I suppose I can't blame you for thinking that," she admits mirthfully. "Used to have a bit of a reputation, I'm sure." She shakes her head, leaning forward a bit. "No, Lance. We're not sleeping together. She's family." Of the extended variety at least.

That mischievous grin never leaves Lance's expression even as he leans back. "Look, I mean, all the lesbian romance drama was the best reality television we got back in the day," he observes cheerfully, "We had betting pools and everything! I mean, not that we had money, but…"

Yes. Yes, this is definitely still Lance Gerken.

Well, now Robyn is maybe bushing noticeably. "Oh," she remarks with a nervous laugh. "Well, only fair. I used to take bets on who would get in trouble next - you, Paul, Joe, or combinations thereof." She taps a finger on her nose, and then points it at Lance. "I suppose I can't be mad about being entertaining. That was my life." The drama, and trying to be entertaining.

"We all did what we could to laugh, back then," Lance says then, shaking his head, "However we needed to do it. They were shitty times." A deep breath, "Anyway! Probably usually me— " He grins sheepishly, "I was terrible. Still am, probably."

An understanding nod is what Lance gets from Robyn in response. "They were, you're right. And you'd be surprised!" Usually it was Lance and Paul. Hell of a team. "Anyway. It's better now, without a doubt. We should enjoy it sometime. Get as many people as we can together. Have a dinner."

"Oh, yeah," Lance agrees, grinning again, "We were over Colette's place a few weeks back, before— uh, before some stuff. It was good to see her. We should do a big dinner though, get all the Lighthouse alumni together, you could meet our new people…"

Colette. Robyn lets out a little chuckle. "I would enjoy that, and I think that sounds great. I forget, sometimes, that the family kept growing after…" She started smuggling, and more or less lost contact with everyone. She waves a hand back and forth dismissively. "I look forward to it."

"Yeah, we all lost track of each other, but— " Lance points, "We're all together in the Safe Zone now, well, most of us. So we should have a reunion!"

"A reunion," Robyn remarks, smiling. "I like it. It'll be good." A grin, and Robyn taps her finger on her unscarred cheek. A look over to one of the food stalls. "Don't think I missed that some stuff," she notes, quirking an eyebrow. "Don't worry. We all get into trouble." Even her, even still.

"Yeah, well," Lance shrugs one shoulder, "Life isn't ever gonna be normal for us. Or, I guess, we decide what normal is." Looking thoughtful for a moment, he chuckles then, "Well, uh. I mean if you want to get the information for that training stuff, I guess it can't hurt to look over it?"

Robyn studies him for a moment, before leaning forward again. "You know what, Lance? I've been hearing that a lot lately." She points a finger at him. "Going to tell you what I've been told - that we have to figure out who we want to be now. The new normal.:" She leans back. "I have good friends helping me with that. I hope you do too." Not that she doubts Joe, Hailey, or anyone else, but- it's not quite the same. "I'll look into it. I think it'd be worth at least looking into."

"Yeah, yeah," Lance chuckles, "You sound like Brynn. She told me the same thing. So— we'll decide what normal is. Although honestly, I could do with a break from the really strange shit for a little while."

"It's going around," Robyn admits, amused. "I heard it from Jolene - the DJ - and from Elaine. Not that surprised." That they'd all have the same thing to say. "You and me both." She lets out a long sigh. "You and me both."

"So we make a new normal," Lance says, leaning forward and resting an arm on the table, looking at her more seriously, "Brynn said everyone is so focused on what life was like Before that they keep missing that we're After. And we decide what that means."

Her smile becoming less amused and more genuine, Robyn offers a slow nod. "But," she raises a finger. "Don't get so caught up in the after that you forget who you were." Her hand lowers back into her lap. "Don't make my mistake. It's a tricky balance. Still finding it."

"Heh." Lance shakes his head with a grin, "You had a before, Quinn. We didn't. We were just kids…" A shrug, a shake of his head, "…and even then, we never knew normal. So, this is our time, one-hundred-percent."

"Robyn," is a quick correction. "Please, just Robyn." No one calls her Quinn anymore. Her shoulders relax - not quite a slump, but almost. "I didn't look at it that way. You're right, though. I'm sorry." She eyes his for a bit, before sitting back up. "Well then, yes. This is your time. Make it better than ours was." Mean in a good way, from the inflection in her voice - supportive.

"Robyn, then." Lance flashes her a smile, "And we'll try. We'll need your help, though and oh my god did I just talk myself into taking a government job." His eyes widen as he realizes the logical chain in this discussion and he promptly groans, head falling into his hands, both elbows on the table.

Robyn's smile becomes rather serpentine as she regards Lance, before shaking her head and laughing. "And there it is."

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