Participants:
| Scene Title | Ba Dump No Ching |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A couple of scavengers fight over whore hoes. |
| Date | March 27, 2011 |
Koshka's at school.
In some ways it's like his job. What he does out here. His 'child' out at school. His 'husband' out at work. All he has to do is find things useful for the three of them. For his ward, Koshka, and his favorite neighbor, Ernesto. It leaves with Brian having nothing to do during the day. Except dig. And dig he does.
Large crashing noises are made as Brian digs his way through the large trash heap in the south end of Eltingville. A large mound of unwanted trash and goods have been piled at the south end of the once fairly nice community. The trash heap usually has a couple visitors a day. Either dropping things in, or coming to get new things. Kind of like a fair exchange between the residents slash prisoners of Eltingville blocks.
On this mid morning day, the dump is generally empty of people. Save for one. His rusted and banged up wheelchair rests on the outskirts of the dump. While Brian himself forges towards the center. Things are flung around as he digs. His wheelchair already full of two lawn chairs and a couple pots and pans. Because everything is usable with enough sanitation solution.
Gardening by hand has become a little too difficult with what's left to do. Therefore Delia Ryans has been reduced to searching (not scavenging) for some useful tools to help in her quest for lawn beautification. She has to do something to occupy her time, bothering her housemates is undesirable at this point, lest they get tired of her too quickly. So she spends most of her days outside, working on the yard.
The german sheppard mix pulling the redhead along has a nose full of dump scent and is loving every bit of it. Weaving in front of her in a serpentine motion, Rhett pauses only long enough to push a stray piece of garbage along the street before finding another one. No matter how many times Delia snaps at the leash, the dog doesn't lift his head. Until something hits his side.
The yelp from the dog and the subsequent cry of fright from the young woman as she tries to dodge flying garbage are Brian's warning that he's not alone. "Hey! Can you watch where you're throwing things?!" The young woman's voice carries a more tired sort of whine than anger. At least she's not throwing the crap back at him.
Brian turns sharply from his post of looking through things to glance over his shoulder.
Irritation is written clearly on his face. He was here first. This is his trash mound. He owns this place. He can throw whatever he like because he was here first and if other people come here they should be watching out because he was he— Brian's eyes widen slightly. Mouth falling agape abruptly. His eyes flick down to the dog then back up to Delia. Eyes wide. His jaw twitches once. Hands pressed to his sides tightly.
"Deebag?" He lets out weakly.
There's only one person that calls her that name. Delia's arm lowers from protecting her head from flying refuse, albeit carefully and her eyebrows twitch together in confusion. "B-brian?" The question of whether it's real Brian or another one that's half there is left unspoken, the uncertain manner in which she questions his identity is enough.
Edging a little closer, she squints and tugs the dog in the direction she wants to go in rather than the other way around. Her eyebrows furrow just a little as her blue eyes sweep over his frame. "You— you remember me?"
Brian takes a hesitant step across the makeshift junkyard. Gray blue eyes not leaving Delia for a moment once they've tracked onto her. The question may be odd in different circumstances. But he gets it. And he's not going to allow it to deter him from this reunion. "Yeah." He clips off quietly. Head bobbing in synch with the word, as if to punctuate it. His shoes carry him through the junk rapidly as he skips around discarded objects.
Almost immediately the young man is arriving at Delia. His arms thrown around her shoulders. Though Delia will probably notice that Brian is missing a finger. Notably his middle one. Going to hug her tightly against his chest, Brian remains quiet as he soaks in her smell, her presence. There is a question that should be asked. But he won't ask it. Not now.
If she was anyone else, Delia might be a little squeamish at the feel of a hug involving nine fingers. She's been in enough hospitals to not care as much about that as wrapping her arms around her former babybitter and hugging him tightly. "What are you doing here? What happened to you? Where've you been?" All of those are spoken into his shirt as she clings and at least the last question has an answer that's fairly obvious.
She's a little too clean smelling for this place, not just the dump but Eltingville in general. Designer jeans that are fashionably faded and worn in strategic places, a long sleeved t-shirt with a non-descript design on the front, a sweater over that. Clothing bought for her by her brother, back in the day. She sniffles once and buries her face into his shoulder, the familiar scent of lavender and mint from her shampoo flies into Brian's face.
Brian holds tightly to Delia. His four fingered hand gripping at Delia's back. Pulling her in against him. A deep breath is taken, bringing in her scent. Which is weird. Because she smells nice. Really nice. No one else smells that nice here. Not like he goes around sniffing people, but he just gets whiffs here and there and they do not smell like that. Holding her there for a long quiet moment, he buries his face in the top of her head before pulling back.
"So good to see you." He murmurs softly, eyes looking over her with adoration. "Hi." He offers in defiance of her questions. Finally after looking down at her with a gentle smile for a long moment he goes to answer. "I got hit up by Cardinal from the future. He overdosed me with refrain and switched my power. Then I got picked up by the cops and now.. I'm here." A light shrug is given while he just stares at her. The unvoiced question is clear.
A wide smile that lights up Delia's face is what Brian pulls back to, it falters and falls with each word out of his mouth and ends in an expression of pain and worry. "Is that why you're disconnected from the rest of you? There's one of you at home, he's… young. Pretty impressed at how buff he is too." The last bit has her lips curving up into a little smile and she nudges him with an elbow.
The jovial attitude is short lived though and as Delia's blue eyes sweep over him again, this time from a closer perspective, she pays special attention to the details. "We need to get you out, what's stopping Sami from coming to get you? Can she take people with her yet? Or… or can she just do herself?" A slow rise of her hands ends with them cupping either side of his face and she stares into his eyes. "There has to be someone that can get you out…"
Brian's brows screw up some. "I wasn't so athletic when I was younger." He admits, before giving a nod. "I lost my ability. And got a different one." Pulling back from her some, his hand is held out, finger splaying to the side. A sharp crackle pop emanates through his hand, blue white electricity jumping from finger to finger. With the display done, his hand drops to his side. He gives a little shrug, before examining her quietly. The hand is four fingered dropping to his side.
"Me." He answers quickly. "I told hr to promise me not to come. Because this place." He motions to the place. "They could defend against phasers. They have robots, Deli. And Koshka is here now. Can't leave without her. It's just.. It's too dangerous. Listen. What are you doing here?"
"There has to be something we can d— Who is Koshka?" The confused quirk of eyebrows and tilt of her head precedes a small shake and the redhead backing off a step or two. Not that she doesn't enjoy the hug but.. Brian doesn't smell as good as what she's used to by now. "If you can't leave with her, then we'll have to find a way to get you both out. I— I'd try to get a hold of well… home… but I'm not allowed to anymore. My dad told me to stay away."
A sad smile makes it's way to her lips and she shrugs one shoulder as she glances to the pile of garbage that Brian had been digging in. "Sort of funny… I'm here to protect him and I'm not even allowed to talk to the people I care about." Her eyelids slide closed and her dark eyelashes flutter just a little before they open again. It's like a switch from sad to happy, or at least a false happy. "He's thinks it's better if I just stay away. That's fine."
"The girl that Sam and I are taking care of." Brian admits quietly. Brian arches his brows at Delia as he tilts his head. "Every time you say your dad told you to do something, I become more and more of the opinion that he doesn't have a brain." Brian purses his lips some, tilting his head down. "Sorry. Your dad is a great guy. Just old with a superiority complex." Smile. Brian's jaw clenches tightly. "So your father sent you here?" Four fingered hand clenches at his side. "Or did you get caught? I swear I'm going to punch him in the old nose." Brian growls lowly.
But then his eyes are flashing around quickly. "Where are you staying? Why are you out here?" Winters frowns deeply, going to lead her down away from the mountain of trash. One hand. The one with five fingers goes to snag Delia's wrist, pulling her along with him.
"No, he didn't send me here. A promise I made to keep him safe brought me here." All in all, Delia doesn't seem to be suffering for the decision, quite the opposite. She's definitely healthier than when Brian saw her last, when she was trying to refuse his chicken tacos.
She stumbles a little when he jerks her down and the leash she's holding onto yanks the poor dog it's attached to causing him to fall. "Brian slow down!" Delia protests as she digs her booted heels in and waits for Rhett to right himself and shake off the refuse. She's still not in full form, far from it, and tires quickly after a few jogging steps to keep up. The pull of her hand as she lags behind the former replicator accompanies the tired huff of breath and the whine of a dog that just doesn't want to leave. "I … I h-have to find gardening tools… for my lawn."
"So.." Brian presses his lips closed tightly. Releasing her wrist. Turning some to face her fully. His mouth goes to stretch open as he tries to piece things together. "Then how are you here? You got caught?" A promise. When does Delia talk about annoying promises? He flushes some. Face devoid of color. "Please. Delia…." Then Brian looks down at the dog. Something that didn't register a second ago. And everything slowly mends together.
"Please tell me.. This has nothing to do with Logan."
The simple solution would be, remain silent. Which is what Delia does. Her eyes drift to follow his to the dog at the end of the leash. Rhett is busy with a new smell on the side of the road and is lifting his leg to make it all his own. "I uhm— Have you found any spades or hoes or anything?" The innocent question meant to dodge an answer that he doesn't want certainly leave him open to make a sarcastic remark.
With a sigh, she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "What would you do…" she whispers, finally starting to give him an answer. "What would you do to keep one of the most important people in your life safe? What would you do for Sami or Koshka?"
"No." Brian drolls out emptily. His mouth sags open as he stares down at her. "No spades." Hoes? His eyes search Delia for a long moment. His lips twitch some. "Who is this? Most important person in your life?" Winters asks somewhat aggressively. Before taking a deep breath. "You know what, don't tell me. We.. Every time we talk lately. I end up getting pissed. So.. why don't you just come back to my house and relax?"
"My dad, jerkface," Delia grumbles in a snarky tone. She brings her hand swinging down to her side and tucks it into her pocket. The redhead isn't wearing her heavy coat at the moment, though it might have been a smart thing to do for the walk. he chill sends a small shiver through her and the hand holding onto the leash crosses her chest to grip the opposite arm, rubbing it slightly.
Brian's paranoia seems to have been abated for at least a moment and she tilts her head somewhat to the side as she takes in their surroundings. "Where do you live?" No mention of where she's living at the moment, her house mates might not appreciate a visitor at this point.
"Don't call me jerkface." Brian mumbles quietly. He glances down at her before back up to the houses in the distance. "You're related to your dad." He states dully. Giving a little nod. That makes sense. "I would do whatever it takes, Delia. To protect Sami. The baby. And Koshka. The kids." He shakes his head slightly. "But I also look out for you, Deebag. And I'm not going to let you ruin your life because you say stupid things sometimes. I live over that way. Follow me. We'll go have some tea. You can meet Koshka."
She doesn't even need to give the leash a tug to have the dog follow her but she does give a verbal command, perhaps just to make herself feel better. "C'mon Rhett, let's go see where Brian lives." She follows along behind the tall man with her head kept down. "My life isn't being ruined, believe it or not, it's being fixed. Mister Logan is fixing everything that went wrong, I'm going to try to go back to school and get my job back at the hospital." It might be the second generous deed that Brian's heard of the man doing, the first being putting Delia up in the first place.
"Her name is really Koshka? Is she Russian or something? Do you think she can teach me some Russian?" The string of questions are somewhat off topic, a brighter thing than what they were talking about before. "I met a couple of Russian people, I'd like to be able to talk to them— you know— show that I'm making an effort to understand them."
"No, it's Bethany. yeah. I'm sure you can ask her. She can teach you Russian." Brian quietly murmurs, glancing over to her with an arched brow. "I know some Russian. I started studying it when her father was saying mean things about me in front of me." He gives a light jostle of his shoulders. Brian remains quiet for a long moment.
"Logan is doing good. Right now." He edges out. "But you can't trust him, Delia. Like seriously." Winters leaks out quietly. "Please just remember. He's not a good guy. And masks exist okay. He's not trying to become a better person. For all you want to justify him. Just please don't rely on him changing, okay?"
Delia's eyes don't stray from the ground directly in front of her feet. "I'm not, I know what he's like, I saw." Maybe. If she was telling herself the truth, the man's kindness over the past week or so has managed to polish a little bit of his shine back. "I'm here to help him," she utters quietly. "I'm going to do my best and I'll leave as soon as I can. But I'm going to keep my promise to him, no matter what." She doesn't mention that she's been practicing with her own masks, in her own way.
Switching the subject back to one that's a little more friendly, or at least neutral, Delia gives the man beside her a slight smile. "I'd like to learn a little bit of Russian, I'll probably never really be good at it. Maybe I can learn how to say 'where is the bathroom' in every language you know? Donday esta el banyo. See I can already do it in Spanish. Oo ay la bang? That's French."
Brian lets a breath drag out of his lungs. His lips tighten. "You are so gung ho about keeping your dumb promises to stupid people. Could you make a promise to me? Would you be as die hard about it?" Brian asks, looking over at her. Eyes widening some, brows arched high. "Then you can learn from Koshka." He motions down the street. Turning some he goes to place his hands on the handles of the wheelchair.
Pulling away, the wheelchair is pressed down away from the trash pile. Eyes flitting over to Delia as he pushes alongside her away from the junk heap.
"What promise do you want me to make, Brian?" Delia meets his eye and doesn't look away. It's a challenge to get his faith back or she's about to make another dumb decision, either or. "And yes, if I made a promise to you and someone's life depended on it, I would be as die hard. He promised that he wouldn't even bother my dad from afar. Do you know what that means? I'm pretty sure it means that he won't even go through third parties."
The dog takes up his little habit of walking right in front of the redhead, weaving to and fro and smelling every possible smell he can. "I'm not allowed to contact anyone from home, Brian, it already feels like I lost everything. Please don't make it worse." Then she falls into an uncomfortable silence broken only by the crunch of boots against the gravel on the roadside.