Participants:
| Scene Title | Beethoven for Beethoven |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Peyton brings home a new house guest to Cat's penthouse, and Cat makes a request of the clairvoyant, though it's one she can't fill yet. |
| Date | May 24, 2010 |
Village Renaissance Building Cat's Penthouse
Getting a puppy and a bag of dog food out of the car and into the building is no easy task, but Peyton manages, wriggling puppy held against her chest with one hand and the dog food carried like a football under the other. She makes her way through the lobby and to the elevator that brings her to Cat's suite. She is going to owe the woman a favor for letting yet another homeless refugee take shelter in the Village Renaissance Building.
The clairvoyant is wincing as she steps off the elevator — without both hands being full, she has nothing left to pull her hair out of the puppy's muzzle as it tangles his nose and mouth around the long locks. She's going to have to remember to wear it in a ponytail until she trains "Von" better.
The main area of the penthouse which contains a good deal more than Cat's personal suite is devoid of persons when Peyton arrives. Alia is probably doing that which Alia does somewhere out of view, if she's even present. Likewise for Helena. But that soon changes.
The double entry doors one-quarter of the floor away from the one Miss Whitney used open, Cat stepping in through them and closing behind her. Eyes make a slow travel of the surroundings. "Peyton," she greets, in turning to approach she of similar height and hair color.
"Hey, Cat," Peyton says, bending carefully to set the dog food on a table and shifting the puppy in her arms so she can tug her hair free with a wince. "Ew, you made it all wet," she tells the deaf puppy, tapping its nose lightly, which only results in getting her finger gnawed on. "Ow, sharp teeth." She bends to let the puppy down so it can explore. "He just went pee outside, so he should be good for a little. I figure newspaper and the bathroom will be required… Thanks again for putting him up along with me!"
The little red pointy-eared pup moves over toward Cat in a lumbering pupple gambol. "His name is Ludwig Von, but just Von for short. He's deaf, poor thing."
Thoughts of Odessa and her file are set aside in favor of watching Peyton with her new possession, Cat's expression being one of some veiled amusement. Her head tilts as the name is spoken, and the reason. "Beethoven," she remarks quietly. "I can help you with the issue of him gnawing on your hair."
While starting to hum the Fifth, it being brought into recall by the dog's name, she pulls an elastic band from a pocket and offers it forth.
The clairvoyant laughs, accepting the band. "Yes, I was just thinking I would need to wear my hair up for the duration of puppydom," she says, pulling her hair back and winding the band quickly around it into a quick ponytail that's then looped halfway through in a loose "bun" of sorts. She taps her foot when the puppy begins to wander too far away, and the vibrations through the floor boards draw its attention, pulling him back into orbit. He trots back over and she scoops him up again, letting him lick her beneath the chin.
"I figured I have the space — when I'm at home, that is — and the means, and it's a small little thing I can do… and I think I'm smitten," Peyton says with a grin. "How are you?"
"Well enough," Cat replies with a chuckle. "Keeping myself busy as usual. You?" On the move, Cat is headed toward the entertainment room where she snags a bottle of stout from the small refrigerator and offers whatever memory says Peyton prefers, just before aiming herself toward the music zone.
She's got an idea in her head, and just has to follow it.
Taking the diet soda that Cat offers, Peyton shrugs. "Aside from the dog, you know, nothing's changed since the last time you saw me but for a jaunt through the snow. It's freaking cold still. I know it's getting better, but …" she sighs a little heavily, taking a long drink of the soda and holding the can away when the dog tries to lick it.
She can't finish the statement: she misses going to the library and filing and chatting with Cardinal, shadow or otherwise. She hasn't been to the library for over almost two months, since it became too dangerous to travel there in the unplowed streets. She has a file of paperwork she's been keeping both here and at her own apartment so that she can pick up where she left off once she can get to Midtown again.
"You've had plenty of time to train with physical arts like Krav Maga," Cat remarks. Peyton is eyed, and she shakes her head at the diet soda just before drinking from the dark brew. "We got attacked when the weather pattern was being broken," is stated as the lead of her red Fender Strat is plugged into an amp and she starts tuning the instrument, fingers moving over each string and fret to test the sound.
"Would you mind using Allen Rickham's eyes for me, Peyton?"
"Attacked?" Peyton echoes, moving closer and coming to sit nearby, the puppy calming down to snooze in her lap. "I … I can't see someone I haven't met in person or through a vision yet. I've tried, but I haven't gotten it yet. Magnes would say, I'm sure, that Kazimir would say it's just a mental block, but I don't know. I mean, powers have limitations, I'm sure all of them do. Maybe I just can't," she says quietly. "Eventually, maybe. I… I can hear things now. I'm still working on finetuning it and it's not as sharp or consistent as the sight"
"Confidence is key to a lot of things," Cat agrees, "if one expects failure, it often happens. But to quote Kazimir…" she scowls a bit, her head shaking. "I really hope he stays dead this time. Two and a half rounds versus the Vanguard are more than enough." Her countenance remains soured by having spoken of that particular deceased Nazi. "Rickham and two others tried to snatch Liette when the weather operation was ongoing. If we'd not driven them away, the whole thing might've been wrecked." She finishes tuning the instrument.
"Audio and video now. That's excellent. Though I imagine not so much if it happens when you don't expect it to happen."
Petting the puppy in her lap, Peyton frowns at the news, even as she stares off into space for a moment — she blinks and shakes her head. "It's no good. I haven't seen him, not from my eyes, so I can't see him. If you know people he knows, that I might know — i can try and see if I can catch him through their eyes, and then I can? But otherwise… I'm sorry."
"Claire Bennet, Benjamin Washington… he calls himself Knox, Allen Rickham, West Rosen… There might be others, but I don't know. Yet. Those are people I know Rebel's had contact with before. Hopefully we can find them and learn more of their structure, where they stay, and all that before they make another move. Of course," Cat allows, "it would really help if we can get Liette to tell us all she knows about the Institute and hand the data over to Rebel so they won't be after her anymore." A project to tackle very soon: approaching Raith and Lorraine about that need. "Two birds, one stone. Rebel want anything about the Institute they can learn, and so do we."
Peyton frowns a little as she notes the list of names. She isn't sure who Cat knows she knows, so she doesn't offer any illumination on the fact. She also makes a note to check with Cardinal about it. "All right. If I can find him, I'll see what I can do, but what am I looking for? Just… the usual? Anything of interest, right?" she asks.
"Locations, people in the area… It'd be a good thing to practice audio on also, Peyton," Cat recommends. "Names, things they discuss. Anything interesting. Yes." Fingers start to move on the instrument. "Thanks. You do know, you don't have to leave when the weather clears further. You can make this home if you want."
Then, watching the puppy, she launches into Beethoven's Fifth, adapted on the fly to electric guitar.
The offering of a new home has Peyton's brows rise and she smiles in gratitude. "Wow. I… that's really really sweet of you," she says, leaning to nose the puppy's soft fur as she watches Cat play. "The mortgage on my apartment's paid, though. It's not like it costs a lot to live there, and… I'm not ready to sell it, yet." Her voice is a little softer than usual. It's her childhood home and her parents are gone — selling the apartment is a step she isn't ready to take. "It's really nice of you to offer, though," she adds again.
"I've still got the apartment I rented when I came to the city in '08," Cat reflects quietly, "but I've only been there twice since that December. Too painful. And I had this building among the holdings Father's money people invested my funds in, so I made it home. Security is controlled by me, I get all the camera footage, and I know who lives here. Less risk of being abducted and later learning the kidnappers might've been living next door." Her expression doesn't shift much, speaking of such things, but her playing does acquire a touch of edginess.
"You could probably afford your own building," Cat muses some moments later.
Peyton's brow arches at the talk of kidnapping and she shrugs. "You know, I can't live my life afraid of that forever. I want to have a quasi-normal life… I don't want to have security guards and such watching me all the time. And no, I don't have that kind of money. I mean, I do but…" she shrugs. "I wasn't trustworthy, remember, as a teenager. My parents have it set up so I can only access enough to live well but not do anything too stupid with wads of cash. I mean, I still did but a lot of what I did was just stupid, and took very little cash to do." She stands, letting the puppy on the ground once more.
"That's a fairly standard thing," Cat responds, "no matter how responsible or not someone is. It lets the parents keep a measure of control, so trust funds usually don't pass into a person's hands until age 25. It let Father lean on me to study pre-law at Yale rather than music. I had the choice of doing what he wanted, or being cut off. Being poor." A confident smile spreads.
"So I decided to study both, and my brain bailed me out. Anyway, I don't think of you as having been stupid, Peyton. I've seen far worse."
"Well, that's good to hear from someone as smart as you," Peyton says with a laugh. She heads to the table to pick up the bag of food, tapping her foot to get Von's attention. "I should see about getting some Puppy Chow in this one and then try to get him to use the fire hydrant in the deep freeze again. I've never had a pet, so this will be an adventure," she says with a laugh as she gives a wave. "Wish me luck."
"Flawless memory doesn't equal being smart," Cat opines, "just means being able to learn easily and use the information. Super smart is someone like Einstein." Her fingers are continuing to produce Beethoven's Fifth for the enjoyment of Peyton Whitney and a dog bearing the composer's name who also can't hear it. "Luck," she adds with a quiet laugh in parting.
Inwardly she muses on being glad Peyton didn't pick a purse-sized dog. Because she likes the woman, and if she'd chosen such a miniature wolf…
Cat would have to hang her outside the building.