Back to Work


lashirah2_icon.gif gael2_icon.gif

Scene Title Back to Work
Synopsis An old hand emerges from a dark place.
Date October 3, 2010

Gun Hill — Rooftop

Situated atop the Gun Hill apartment building, five stories above street level, the rooftop of the tenement building overlooks the Bronx's gritty urban landscape. A single stair access leads out onto the smooth concrete rooftop surrounded by a three foot high red brick wall with a masoned top. Ventillation pipes and a chimney that connects to the singular fireplace down in the basement rises up from the concrete rooftop, though the chimney's old brick is crumbling and weathered.

A pair of old sun-bleached folding lawn chairs are situated out on the roof along with a plastic cooler, while white sacks of loam and soil are set next to large lengths of scrap wood, a box of nails and a few carpentry tools; a project in the works.

Lashirah sighs as she leans against the old crumbling brick of the chimney, apparently having come up for some fresh air one place she isn't likely to be seen… not that being seen should be a problem with her new haircolor and make-up but… why take unneeded chances?

The various people hiding out in the area have taken different approaches to avoiding unwanted notice. Hair and makeup, a new wardrobe, simply staying indoors as much as possible… or going the opposite direction, staying amongst crowds and counting on them as a distraction.

Wherever Gael has been since Lashirah last saw him… isn't pretty. The familiar upscale clothes have been traded in for jeans, a dark plaid shirt, and something with earflaps. It's the lingering scent of cheap booze, though, that precedes him up the stairs by the greatest distance.

Lashirah twitches her nose at the smell, looking towards the door that sticks. It isn't often she has company lately. MOst the 'residents' here have taken to keeping to themselves for the most part. And some of them who are Company are a touch jumpy… thus she hopes whoever is comingg up doesn't take it wrong that she is a bit tense and ready to spring if something unexpected comes through the door…. Though the sight WILL be unexpected, nor is Gael a terribly familiar face to Lashirah, he isn't an unfriendly face or completely foreign either. "…Rough month?" She asks with what has to be her understatement of the year so far.

Lashirah's black hair is often found pulled back into pigtails, gray-blue eyes highlighted by eyeliner, dark red lipstick highlighting her lips that are often found in an amused smirk, as if she knows something the rest the world doesn't. She appears to be in her mid twenties, far younger than she really is. She looks fit, but not muscular, suggesting regular exercise.

Her usual clothing is described in two words: Black, and White. It is rare to see her wearing almost any thing of real color. Black pants, black vest, white shirt, usually a black choker, and a leather black cuff on one wrist describes her average wear when she can get away with it.

"Go away," the man growls under his breath, leaning heavily against the railing before pulling himself the rest of the way up with a distinct lurch. There's no real ire behind the comment— there might have been, if he had the energy for it. Instead, he stumbles over toward the edge of the roof and drops down to his hands and knees, teetering on the edge of being ill.

Even in as bad shape as he's in, Gael recognizes Lashirah by the time he finally looks up again. True, they never talked that much - but while she didn't know him, it was his job to know her. In an arm's-length sort of way. "Good choice, dyeing your hair. Terrible. But good."

Lashirah sighs, she knows it isn't PERFECT. But it's a step into the other identity she had kept from everyone for a long time. She walks over to lean near Gael. "… Yes, it is terrible that we're resorting to hair coloring and the Ferry to hide us. But… given our choices… the other choices are to give up, turn ourselves in. Fat chance… Or to give up all hope of doing what we hold dear, and run like rabbits."

'Ashley' pauses a moment, then softly states. "They tried to shut us down, burn us from both inside and outside. Yet, we survive, we move on, and we try to make it so those who went before us did not do so in vain." She looks out at the streets. "… down there… there are people, not really aware of how scary their world is. Not ready to know…" She tilts her head, then sighs. "Not all of us have given up."

The bout of nausea past, Gael turns back around, drawing his knees up to his chest as he studies Lashirah. Here's something that wasn't in any of the psych profiles. What would you do if everything here was smashed to pieces? How far would you fall before you got a hold of your ripcord?

"I just meant it wasn't your color," he murmurs, buying some more time to collect his thoughts. Abruptly, his voice grows hard once again. "Some of us weren't given that option." There's real anger this time, but not directed at her, it's just that she's here and the ones responsible aren't. "It took me this long just to hold myself together, much less think about any of the others."

Lashirah nods in understanding. "… I'll fall apart later, when I have the time, and luxury, of not having former co-workers who know my art as well as I do hunting me… and your right. Blonde isn't really me. Then again, it is Ashley O'Brian…" She sighs, and closes her eyes. "… Your right. Some of us weren't." She sighs. "Some of us weren't given any choice at all. And I honestly hope to personally put the nails in the coffin, metaphorically speaking, of at least two of the bastards that I know are responsible for it." She offers an insulated mug, full of black coffee, to Gael. "You likely could use this more than me." She almost is whispering near the end of the statement. Lash, give someone else coffee? This is unheard of.

Instinctively, Gael reaches for the coffee and takes a long sip, setting it down on the ground nearby before it's quite empty. "Thanks. And yes, I— Well. I just want to get back to work, but certain people are in the way of that. I expect we still have some common goals."

Reaching up for the railing again, he tentatively stands up, looking out across the streets below. "If you see any of the others, let them know I'm back, would you?" He's been here about as long as the rest of them have, but he taps the side of his temple to indicate what he's really getting at.

Lashirah smiles a bit. "Glad to have you back… we've a Company to rebuild."

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