Bengal Tiger


sable_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Scene Title Bengal Tiger
Synopsis Ygraine and Sable have a conversation with many high peeks and steep valleys.
Date July 17, 2010

Gun Hill

Front, stairs and rooftop.

It's far too hot a day for even a biker to wear much leather. Jacket now safely tucked away in one of Alfred's panniers, Ygraine is clad in denim cut-offs and a sleeveless top - both in her customary black - as she clomps in and out of Gun Hill, carrying boxes of assorted medical supplies to the clinic. With the big bike sporting the top-box as well as the side panniers, there were enough boxes to keep her busy for a few trips.

Presently, she's on her fifth and (hopefully) last journey, her burden a little larger this time, the top of a stack of boxes held in place with her chin as she maneuvers carefully through the front door of the tenement.

Stuff has been less than totally awesome for Sable, lately, but she's not about to let it get her down any further than it already has. Her arm hurts, the fracture just above her joint shows in the rather gruesome bruising that creeps 'round the edges of sling and split. But that's really no big deal. Sable's felt hunger pains far worse. It's her inability to play guitar that's really chewing away at her morale. So much of her time is spent trying to distract herself one way or another, particularly since she's now been disallowed from going to work, something she grumbles about mostly because it's something she was told not to do, rather than it being something she'd genuinely enjoy doing.

Distractions are, to Sable, not always easy to come by. So she's seriously considering lighting up the remaining half of her joint. She slips out to the fire stairs, cigarette hanging Bogart-esque from her lip, a lighter in her good hand. Force of habit compels her to do a perimeter check and… who's that? Sable's first internal thought is something like 'babe alert'. A closer investigation being immediately warranted, she heads down the fire stairs and brings Ygraine into clearer view. Definitely a babe alert. Definitely a familiar babe. Definitely… Ygraine. She stops on the second floor and leans out, plucking her half-joint from her mouth and grinning down at the biker. Irrepressible and bored, she gives a wolf whistle.

"Hey good lookin'," the yellow eyed girl calls down, "I'd offer t' help all chivalrous 'n' th' like but," she points at her arm with a hand clamped 'round lighter and cigarette, "I sorta overdid th' chivalry night b'fore last. So I hope y' don't mind me just watchin'." Her brows waggle a little. She's not trying to be effective. Just trying to stay entertained.

This is one of those occasions on which Ygraine's particular Evolved talent is actually useful - and in a rather unobtrusive way. The angled stack of supplies simply remains in place as she starts in surprise, then turns around and peers up to locate the source of the whistle and voice.

"I… can't actually remember when I last got whistled at", the Briton says dryly, letting the front door close behind her. "At least, not when I was in anything other than lycra."

Lycra? Man… "I'd say it's a damn shame 'n' a crime," Sable says, leaning on the railing with one arm much as she would with two, "But I fuckin' hate that shit, truth be told, 'least when boys do it," she wrinkles her nose, "So, like, apologies 'n' all if it ain't amusin'. Bad habits, eh? Got plenty of 'em." She waggles her hand, with its illicit contents.

"Speakin' of, y' look busy 'n' all, but I'm bored as shit 'n' about t' light up. Dunno if you toke, darlin', but allow me t' invite y' for a puff. I'd like t', like, powow with y', personable-like, 'n' I figure mebbe we c'n get started on th' right foot easier if we're both a touch blazed, dig?"

Ygraine moves closer to the stairs down to the clinic as Sable talks, but that's partly to reduce the crick in her neck from peering up at the girl above. "I've never smoked anything in my life, I'm afraid", she says with a smile. "So feel free to enjoy it yourself."

Hefting the stack of boxes in her arms, she glances towards the cellar steps. "I'll leave these down, then I'll be right with you."

"First time f'r everythin', darlin'," Sable says, "'n' if yer nervous 'bout gettin' too fuckin' high," she grins, wolfish, "We c'n always shotgun it. I won't fuckin' object in th' slightest." Pure wickedness in her eyes. Mostly for Ygraine's benefit. She reasonably expects Ygraine to take her up on neither offer, but it's the making of it that pleases Sable. And she will please herself. She tilts her head towards the building. "Get along, gal. Don't you keep me waitin', now."

Ygraine rolls her eyes, but chuckles faintly as she turns away to offer Sable the rear view, now, and disappear down to the cellar.

She's out of sight for a minute or so, before the sound of heavy boots precedes her reappearance. Propping one shoulder against the wall, she crosses one foot in front of the other and looks for Sable again. "So… conversation in the stairwell, or would the chairs on the roof be a better idea?"

"I rather like th' stairs," Sable admits, "But I'll let you pick, seein' as yer the lady 'n' all." She puts the joint to her lips, then thumbs the lighter, lifting the flame and lighting the joint. She takes a middle sized hit, then offers it to Ygraine. No pressure. It's pure etiquette. She lets out a plume of acrid smoke into the hot air. "By th' by," Sable adds, "If there's anythin' 'bout my demeanor 'r, like, modes of expression that y' find somethin' like untoward, do me the kindness 'f tellin' me, so I c'n tone it down. I figure half our problem last time is that we just express ourselves in certain ways, eh? Less than th' actual fuckin' content of what's expressed?"
Ygraine shakes her head and raises a hand in response to the offer of the joint. "The… barrage of swearing was somewhat disconcerting, I confess", she says, tone dry, though there's a hint of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "But…"

She glances away towards the front door, frowning a touch, then reaches up to remove her wrap-around shades and hang them from the neck of her top, before looking back to Sable. "Feel free to look - or even whistle, or comment - so long as it's in good humour. I'd rather have someone be honest with me than not. I'll let you know if it's too much. And I think I can trust you to let me know if I piss you off."

Another glance around. "As for where to talk… is this something we shouldn't risk other tenants over-hearing? I don't know quite what sort of pow-wow you have in mind."

"It'll be an awful task t' keep it down, as I use th', like, profane as some use 'uhs' 'n' 'ums'," Sable says, with a crooked grin, and takes another hit. This stuff clearly works, judging by the ease of her expression. "But f'r you, gorgeous, I'll make th' effort," she nods towards the stairs up, "Comon'. I know y' like yer privacy, 'n' I dig that. I want us t' be able t' speak freely, 'n' with, like, maximum trust." She starts the ascent, "Good humor indeed, 'n' containin' a sort of truth as humor often does, eh? Honest, I dunno if yer fine good looks makes it easier 'r harder f'r me t' like y'," she flashes a grin, "Somethin' awful sexy 'bout someone that c'n infuriate y'." Another joke, with another truth in it, at least when she says it.

Ygraine can't help but laugh, shaking her head as she pushes off the wall. She eyes the stairs, sighing wearily - before launching herself to bound up them two at a time, at least until she catches up with Sable.

"This city is far too hot at the moment", she grumbles, before peering sidelong at her diminutive companion. "So… should I actually feel in any way flattered, or do you flirt with every woman you meet?", she asks, sounding genuinely curious rather than challenging.

"Aw, hell, this ain't as bad as a Georgia summer," Sable says, waving a hand dismissively, "Yer just from th' land 'f rain 'n' fog. Dunno how you sons of- er- how you folks wound up with such damn good music. All my favorite artists 'r Brits, save f'r Hendrix, 'n' he moved over t' yer side 'f the pond." She opines as she ascends, sounding amicable. This, from her, is a high sort of praise, even if it doesn't sound like it.

On the matter of flirting: "It depends, hon. I'll be fair, I'm layin' it on thick with y', half 'cause I figure it's me tryin' t' see how y' handle it which… sorry, sort of a shit thing t' d', but it's better th'n be bein' a in-yer-face bitch as I was last time," she dips her head, acknowledging the failure, "'n' th' other half just as I said. Somethin' in me wants t' get m' hands on y' in a real way, but I'd much rather wrestle t' make y' feel good th'n t' make y' feel ill. Sorry if that's outta line, but that's me bein' totally fuckin' honest. I know I'm a crazy person, but hey," she grins, "Make love, not war, eh?"

Ygraine doesn't look as if she's entirely certain that she followed all of that, and stays silent for a few moments while she tries to process it. "I…", she starts, before chuckling and shaking her head, then eyeing Sable sidelong as they climb.

"So… I should feel flattered, but I'm also being tested? You're an odd one, and no mistake." Another chuckle, and a wry smile. "But thank you for the complimentary portion of it, at least. And… having spent years wandering around in public in a lycra skin-suit, I'm not exactly unused to people staring or commenting." A slight pause. "Not that I'm likely to join the female residents of this place in dressing up for Mister Varlane's delectation. That's a bit too weird even for me."

"I make 'im dress me up in dude's stuff," Sable explains, "If he's int' that, God bless 'im. We need more queer in th' world." They round the last bend and ascend to the level of the roof. "Ain't no idle words, though. I figure y' think I'm right foul, but if I'm mistaken 'n' yer of an open mind, I'm a believer in free love, more 'r less," she dips her head again, this time as a sort of bow though: 'and now you know me' sort of feel. "Y'd honor me by it. 'n' I figure it'd be a whole lot better way t' blow off our mutual steam, eh?" She cocks her eyebrow, "Lycra skin-suit? Jesus, gal. Yer a public service."

Ygraine's brow wrinkles as she again gets somewhat lost in the course of that. The last bit, at least, seems clear enough - and she laughs, blushing faintly as she shakes her head, shades being restored to their perch so that she can gaze up at the sky without squinting.

"I still wear one as a courier, when I'm not on Alfred", she says, tone mildly teasing. "I'm too used to cycling like that to feel entirely normal changing habits now. But it's not the sort of thing to wear on a motor cycle. For that, only the heat gets me out of leathers. I've no desire to be turned into pavement pizza…."

Though she was the one who mentioned the chairs, she opts to perch on the parapet at the edge of the roof, her back to the drop, arms spread to lightly rest her fingertips on the sun-heated brickwork. Looking back to Sable, she cocks her head. "I'm used to 'foul language' being used to cause offence, or when angry or frightened", she says quietly. "So it's hard for me to respond to it as… just an interjection. Whenever someone uses it, if it doesn't sound like a joke, then… it makes me think that they're ready to fight or run. Whereas I have the impression that you're used to people who talk as I do, only doing so to talk down to you and make you feel stupid."

Either she's not yet figured out the 'free love' comments, or she's tactfully avoiding the topic.

"See, that's some clean speech right there," Sable says, squinting at Ygraine and gesturing at her with what's left of her cigarette - almost down to the roach. "Loud 'n' clear 'n' thoughtful as all hell. Y' are smart, I'll grant y' that, 'n' thus think 'bout things 'nuff that y' get stupid 'bout them. It's th' same with me. We just gotta see what's actually clever 'bout th' other, 'cause that's there. Figure it had t' be, as Elaine 'n' Quinn think well 'f y'. And I'm startin' t' see it too, I think. Don't wanna be too quick t' say I know though," her grin slants, "In case y' don't think I'm clever, 'n' I have t' take it back, out 'f shame f'r bein' th' only one t' say it."

Ygraine laughs softly, offering Sable another wry twist of a smile. "I'm never entirely sure that words mean the same to me as they do to you. As demonstrated in the… differing approach to profanity." A slight shrug and a pensive frown, and she glances away over the city.

"I'm a book-worm. That much is painfully obvious almost as soon as I open my mouth." Her shaded gaze turns back to Sable. "To many, that makes me instantly irrelevant. 'Book-smart' or 'clever' can be dire insults. Far better to be 'down to Earth' or 'of the people'…."

Another shrug, this one rather tighter, tensed muscles shifting under pale skin. "I almost never know if I'm reading people right. I can usually see… a lot of options for what people might mean. Makes me very useful in some situations - I can generally see all sorts of ways in which a fight might be avoided, or possible approaches to defusing tensions, or why what was said might not have been meant as an insult…. But it makes me absolutely bloody awful at dealing with a lot of people. Until I manage to figure them out enough to get a handle on them, I'm… all too often I'm absolutely clueless as to what they really mean, in anything they do. I can put together a menu of choices - but which one's the right one? No idea, at least until I've thought about it."

Smiling ruefully, Ygraine shifts position slightly, the heat of the bricks getting to her a little. "So… I'd be very wary of describing you at all. Confrontational and flirtatious, I think I'd be safe in, but even those might just be your response to me and the particular… circumstances of our meeting. Clever? Probably. But I don't know enough to feel at all confident judging you."

Sable actually spits. Nothing super gross, just a quick show of derision. "Shoot f'r the stars," she growls, "Land on th' moon if y' miss. Never, never be down t' earth. No music gets made with yer feet on th' ground," philosophically speaking, "See… I tend t' do the exact fuckin' opposite which, like," she rolls her eyes, "There's a surprise. Tend t' get a clear vibe 'n' just go f'r it. But I'm mystical 'n' yer, like… statistical," she chooses this due to rhyme rather than precision. Which is a demonstration of the very voiced notion.

She tilts her head, regarding Ygraine, with thought, "Mebbe we c'n give each other that time t' figure each other out. 'cause obviously I can't go by my first instinct, 'n' you need yer time t' suss me out. But I'm impatient, gal. You c'n ask me whatever, whatever y' think y' need t' know, 'n' I'll answer, regardless of what th' question is, if th' answers mine t' give."

Ygraine does look a little perturbed when the spitting occurs, though it fairly quickly becomes clear that the scorn it expressed wasn't directed at her. "I… hrrrrm." She cocks her head, eyes narrowed behind her shades as she studies Sable.

"Okay…. If… there's anything you want to know, feel free to ask. I don't promise to answer, but I can't think of anything you'd be likely to ask that'd offend me just for being voiced. You can go first if you like, since you… started the pow-wow and might have things already in mind."

Sable quirks her lips to the side. Her mind is loose now, but not very sharp. Fluid, but somewhat fickle. And she only has one strong current. "Y' know what I want t' ask, dontcha? I fear y' won't answer it, 'n' I fear further y' might think less 'f me f'r bein' hung up… but I do wonder, gal, howsit a married woman's goin' with another gal? Askin' only fer information, makin' no judgment. I believe y' when y' say Quinn knows what she's in f'r, 'n' I respect that she knows what's best f'r her own self."

With her own thoughts have been on quite a different tack, Ygraine looks genuinely surprised when that's the first question. "I… hrrrm." She clears her throat, shifting again atop the hot bricks. "We're going to be apart for months in the year, and we trust each other", she says quietly. "We've… we know some people who're poly, and not just as a trendy fad - a silly flag to wave to show how 'counter-culture' they are - but as something that's worked for them, for years. And we've agreed that if we… find someone suitable, someone we really trust, and who accepts that they're not going to be… primary in our concerns, then we can… see if it works for us too."

Ygraine offers another of her characteristic shrugs, lips pursing. "We don't really know if it can work for us, or how it will if it does. But… I've got permission to have a girl in each port, so long as the girl knows about the wife back home and the… fact that we've no clue if this'll work for us. It's a gamble for everyone concerned, and one that scares me more than a little. I'm bloody terrified, in truth. Frightened I'll screw everything up for everyone concerned."

Sable's brows arch high, but only because the bloodshot squint of her eyes makes it hard for her to appear properly wide-eyed. She listens with surprise and interest, but no twinge of negative emotion, not even shock. More like revelation.

"Aw, that's fuckin' cool," is her first and enthusiastic opinion, "I dig yer bein' careful with that. Hearts don't always behave like we'd care f'r, as its the heart that decides whatall we care f'r. And I see how yer trust's gotta be ironbound. But gal, takin' steps as y' are, I figure that's a finer sort 'f thing th'n the ennoblin' of jealousy. The more love, the better." This last isn't a come on. It's stated with a quiet vehemence that suggest deeply held belief.

Ygraine chuckles bashfully, shoulders rising as her gaze drops. "Well, that's sort of what we're hoping for. I never really had a long-term boyfriend, my wife was the first woman I ever dated - and already I've got plans in place to let me sleep around. I feel as if I'm a truly terrible person to be talking about trust and commitment, but… that's what we're trying to make sure it's all about."

Yet another shrug, and she peeps up again. "If it doesn't work for us, or for Robyn, then we can stop. And hopefully do so without burning any bridges or losing any friendships. I'd far rather have Robyn as a friend, than screw around and mess things up."

"You call 'er Robyn?" Sable says, snickering, "I'm guessin' from you she finds it familiar 'n' sweet." Her head tilts again. "I'd go f'r y', if I didn't think it'd upset Quinngirl," she says, something between an admission and a simple statement of fact, "I think y'd be a hell of a lay, honest. Y' got that feel t' y'. Like y' know yer own body, 'n' what it wants. Draws folks," she nods. Yes. That's true what she said. She wasn't sure quite until she said it. "But Quinn'd think it all strange and confounding, and I'd never want that."

Ygraine glances down at herself, almost as if to check she's wearing her usual body. "I… I do?" She certainly doesn't sound sure. "Ummmm. Thank you, I think."

A slight pause, as her blush settles firmly into place, then she laughs, and quirks a wry smile. "I'll have to make sure to tell Quinn to set a high price on giving you permission to try anything, it seems…."

Clearing her throat, she darts another glance out over the city. "Robyn seems to suit her", she says, somewhat defensively. "I like it. Always felt a bit… weird, just calling her by her surname."

Sable's lips cant in a very slanted smile. "Y' do," she says, with a nod, "I already know how yer eyes'd light up. It's yer competitive edge, hon. Y' like t' be th' best. 'n' I bet y' could compete," now she grins, "Internationally. Professionally. A Casanova, gorgeous. But only a favored few get lucky," she sets her free hand to her chest, "Real fuckin' lucky, if my hunch is right."

She rolls her good shoulder, a lopsided gesture that looks better when she's in better condition. "Now… my next question I wanna be is… when y' say she should set a high price…" her eyes remain firmly on Ygraine's if she can catch them, "That mean tryin' somethin' might get somethin' done?"

As might be part of Sable's intent, Ygraine's blush deepens throughout the course of that latest set of comments, though her eyes remain protected by those wrap-around shades. "Ahh-hrrrrm. Ummm. Casanova? Hardly. Ummmm. And… probably not. I really don't want to screw anything up. Either with Robyn or with She Who Must Be Obeyed."

Sable nods, "My loss, 'n' a damn shame," she says, without bitterness, "I think afterglow'd do wonders f'r our interpersonal-type difficulties. But hey," she beams, "We're gettin' along pretty well so far. Ain't you got questions f'r me? 'cause this'll be yer chance t' derail me. I'll keep tryin' to make y' blush, given th' chance. I like th' look."

Ygraine snorts, though that comment doesn't exactly help her blush at all. Again, she glances away - this time taking in a deep breath, intended to steady her nerves. "Ummmmm. Well. It'd… not be quite so light-hearted. And I know that Robyn's already had a go at you over it", she says cautiously.

"Figure th' more open 'n' honest I am with you," Sable says, winking, refusing to give up what ground she's claimed on Ygraine's blush, a charming reaction that Sable finds, on the face of someone she felt so much animosity towards previously, utterly captivating for whatever crazy reason, "Th' closer I get t' seein' if my hunch is right," Joke, joke… right? "Hit me. I won't be sore."

Desperately seeking distraction, Ygraine's mind briefly latches onto that last comment, wondering if the odd little woman means it literally. Is that a hint as to what her Evolved ability might be? Probably not, given her present state of injury… or maybe so, since it would fit with a readiness to get into fights. But… ah, yes. Speech.

Ygraine clears her throat, cheeks still bright. She forces her shoulders to relax a bit, rolling them slightly. "Well…. Ummm. It's… about the whole situation with Magnes and Elaine. And… what happened recently…." Her voice trails off, giving Sable a chance to change her mind about being pressed on the topic.

Not literal. Just an expression. But she'd be on to something if she did take it literally. "Y' mean th' knife fight?" Sable states, unabashed, "I'm th' one t' ask, seein' as it was me who was in it, and th' one with the knife specifically."
"Were you wearing gloves?", Ygraine blurts out, before nodding, and slowing her speech to her more customary speed. "'Cause I know it was left behind, with blood on the blade, for the police to find…"

"Nope," Sable says, "But my fingerprints ain't gonna come up anywhere. Never got caught doin' nothing, not, 't least, 'til they threw out m' file when I turned eighteen which, like, I think happened a little while back. And it ain't nothin' they'll have in this state," she wrinkles her nose, "Misspent youth 'n' all."

Ygraine frowns worriedly, her blush finally starting to fade. "Still, it's clear evidence of at least assault with a deadly weapon, with DNA for a victim on the blade, and fingerprints for the perpetrator. You'll be in the system now, at the very least - and tied to a violent crime."

"Only if that fucker presses charges," Sable states, her arm folding across her sling in an approximation of crossed arms, "Which he won't seein' as he's got domestic abuse hangin' over his head. He ran from th' cops himself. No charges, no crime, no file. 'n' there's nothin' t' put in th' system. They got no name 'n' no description. Jesus! No one I even know knows m' name."

Ygraine shakes her head. "Precisely because they have no idea if it's a murder or not, because there's no body and only a confused account from someone who says she had no part in it, it's likely to get logged. Bloody knife and no idea how serious it is? That goes in the system even if it's just a matter of firing it down to the lab to have tests run before it's stuck in the evidence locker."

Leaning forward a bit, resting her arms on her knees, Ygraine sighs. "You do realise that Robyn's name-free attempt to explain how it's her friends who were attacked, and that there's someone who's a real problem out there - but wasn't the one with the knife - is unlikely to convince them. It's more likely to get them interested. C'mon - if your job was to investigate crime, would you find a confused story and a bloody blade a reason not to check things out?"

"Surely," Sable says, nodding, "'n' I'm real fuckin' sorry if it causes th' Ferry any trouble, 'n' I'll move 'r lie low, as befits th' situation. I just wish th' brass in the Ferry'd just fuckin' get around t' tellin' Quinn 'bout things, cause she'd've never gotten th' cops involved if she'd've known," she lifts her one hand, "That's t' in no way excuse m' own actions, which, had they not gone th' way they'd gone, would've had th' whole situation prevented.

She doesn't end there, though, "But th' situation it wouldn't've prevented, was that motherfucker chasin' after me 'n' Elaine f'r blocks, with him faster th'n both 'f us, 'n' hittin' like a fuckin freight train. So I did what I did so's Elaine could get away 'n' get help fast, instead 'f letting him come upon us from behind 'n' beat that poor girl again. So," she shrugs, "At th' end 'f the day, I'm fuckin' sorry f'r the trouble, but he was on us in th' moment 'n' I made th' fuckin' call, based on what I had t' work with, 'n' on Tamara's fuckin' suggestion."

Ygraine's frown deepens, with a look of disbelief appearing briefly when Tamara is mentioned.

"The person in question is apparently a violent criminal. I'd have called the police to start with, since Elaine's the one with the problem, she's Registered, and she's wholly legit. She's the sort of person the cops will protect… but now, having been called to the scene of a violent crime, the cops have got cast-iron evidence of a violent crime - but it's one perpetrated by you against the person you might in future need the cops to believe is a problem."

She shakes her head. "My problem's not with… fighting to defend yourself. I've no idea what this guy can actually do - but it's clear he hurt you", she says gently, gesturing towards the splinted arm. "It's with the… crazy decisions that wound up putting you in that situation."

Lowering her gaze, she sighs. "I'm frightened for Elaine. She's… not thinking clearly. And now her options are… markedly reduced, unless she wants to drop you in hot water."

"Wasn't me I was defendin'," Sable says, "If so, I'd've just fuckin' run, kept dodgin' him, 'til I got t' Gun Hill 'n' folks coulda helped. It's Elaine I drew f'r, because Elaine was who he was after, 'n' Elaine ain't got my quickness. See, I have this thing where I c'n see things comin', c'n dodge real easy. She don't. So dig, please, that it wasn't self-defense. That's… whatever. 50/50. Me 'r him. This was me defendin' someone else, someone I love. Explainin', thus, that I'm fuckin' sorry f'r the trouble, like I said, but I did all I figured I could."

She shrugs, "I say that meanin' it, too. Like I said, ol' Tamara advised me. 'n' she sees shit like that comin' th' same way I see fists."

Ygraine gently shakes her head again, though she cocks her head and frowns at that last comment. "You're saying that… Tamara's possessed of a precognitive danger sense? Ah… that she sees danger before it happens?" She's clearly sufficiently surprised that her previous train of thought is at least temporarily derailed.

"Not specific t' danger," Sable says, frowning. Ygraine doesn't know this? Ygraine, Sable assumed, knew everything that didn't have to to do with Sable herself and her intentions, of which she presumed Ygraine to know nothing at all. Neither statement true, but both fitting her polar cognitions. "She don't see the past 'r nothin'. She remembers th' future. All 'f em, coming out 'f a haze like what we've f'rgotten, gettin' clearer 'n' closer as they come t' be th' present, so that we only ever share th' moment with her. Th' rest of what she is 'n' knows is what's t' come."

Ygraine frowns pensively, eyes once again narrowed behind her shades. "Mmmmm. She does remember people she's previously met, so far as I can tell", she says carefully, sounding very thoughtful. "But… that could help to explain some of the fracturing, at least…. Hrmmm."

A shake of the head, as if to clear it, and she sighs again. "Part of what I wanted to talk to you about… well…. Robyn told me that… she made clear how upset she was to be… brought into a situation like that, then be left at the crime scene with nothing but a bloody knife for company. I figure that a chewing out -" she pauses, registering the connotations that might have, in light of their earlier conversation. "Ahhh, a telling off from Quinn'll do more than anything I could say ever would, in that regard. But… believe it or not, I'm actually going to ask you for help."

"Naw, she remembers us from the future," Sable says, "She knows she knows us, 'cause she's been with f'r as long as we'll know her. But she's not so sure necessarily which way she knows us, 'n' how long, will be how she actually comes t' it. It ain't so hard t' figure, once y' get the sense of it."

"I apologized t' Quinngirl, but an apology sure as hell don't balance no scales, just lets her know I aim t' balance them, with her 'n' with th' universe," Sable nods, "'n' I figure part of that recompense is gonna involve makin' m'self at yer disposal. Let's hear it, hon."

Ygraine's mind is clearly rapidly running through possibilities and memories as Sable describes Tamara's situation… but she drags her thoughts back to the present when the conversation returns to Quinn. Both brows lift at the end.

"At my disposal? Heh. Ummm. Well." The Briton purses her lips, brow now furrowing pensively, before her lower lip is bitten for a few moments. "I'll… preface it. Try to make clear where I'm coming from. Why my opinion might be worth something…"

A long, deep, somewhat unsteady breath, then she reaches up to remove her shades, balancing them atop her head, squinting at Sable as she talks. "Part of the reason that I like Tamara, and part of the reason I was… startled when I heard that Colette was with someone else now, is that I've some idea of what it's like to live in a world that simply doesn't follow the rules other people seem to live by. To experience a situation where you just know that either you're missing something huge, or everyone else is."

The Briton offers one of her slow, tense shrugs. "In the UK, it's called Sectioning. Detention under the relevant section of the Mental Health Act. If it's not to be done voluntarily, it requires a formal medical statement that you're a threat to either your own safety or that of other people - or preferably both. I… was Sectioned, for over six months."

Her lower lip is bitten again, as she squints through the day's glare at Sable, watching for the hostility, fear or disgust that mental problems all too often inspire.

What the Briton sees is maybe dreaded, expected. First is horror, then anger. "What bullshit," she growls, her eyes pointed somewhere between Ygraine's fit, "Ain't that just fuckin' typical. The fuckin' Man, comin' up with reasons why y' can't tend t' yer own self, reasons t' lock someone up. Crazy house is f'r folks they wanna throw int' prison but can't figure out no better way f'r. Sons of bitches. I'm sorry, gal. No fuckin' lie y' play it close. Th' world treated you unkind."

All that anger, it seems, is reserved for the powers that be, however paranoiac her conception of them.

Sable looks fierce, ready for trouble, but none of it is trouble for Ygraine personally. She looks worked up. "Yeah, girl, at yer disposal. More th'n ever. What c'n I fuckin' do f'r a fellow headcase?"

Ygraine shrugs tiredly, and gently, mustering a wan smile. "A half-suicidal speed freak with access to some very fast motorised transport really was a danger to the public. I… needed put away, at least for a while. But… I've not checked exactly how the criteria work here. Been something of a… sore point. Something I don't want to know about. Not that I share… that information with many people. Precious few on this side of the Pond know about it at all, in fact…."

Gathering her thoughts for a few moments, Ygraine closes her eyes, lifting her face to the sun. "I tried to explain this to Elaine, a little while back. Because it's relevant to her life." Lids lifting, Ygraine looks back to Sable. "Because her protector's someone who's publicly demonstrated a disregard for his own life, and half the world has seen footage of him being a threat to public safety. He helped put a city under martial law and changed a whole country's policy on visas."

Leaning forward again, Ygraine looks grim. "So if the US has anything at all similar to the same criteria, Mr Varlane was a candidate for detention in a secure hospital, for the good of both himself and the public - even before he began doing things like stashing knives in his sofa in case he ever needed to stab someone while he was sitting on it, or went off to hunt his girlfriend's ex with a gun and blades as well as the super-powers that got Tokyo put under martial law."

Sable blinks. Once. Then she's quiet for a long moment. "I'm gonna, like, suggest we f'rget y' ever said that, dig?" she says, tone totally flat, expression equally so, "'cause this line 'f… questionin' I guess ain't really what it is, now is it? But this line 'f… conversation ain't gonna end well if y' keep down this road. Y' understand… that boys my comrade. 'n' if I hear y' speak ill 'f him, I'm gonna be forced t' take some action. I don' want it t' come t' that so… how's about we just fuckin' suspend th' topic, dig? I'm just gonna, like… act like what I think yer tryin' t' say t' me's just another miscommunication, but one that don't need no clarification."

Ygraine narrows her eyes, then sighs. "I told you I was asking for help", she says gently. "If I was aiming to have him put away by the state, I wouldn't be raising it with you. My point is that unless he turns around, he's firmly set on that course - and to make it even more fun, the people they'd have to send to bring him in would be a Frontline assault team."

Another sigh. "Robyn likes him, and Elaine loves him. Even if it were only for their sake alone, I'd prefer not to see it happen to him. The Ferry, and where he's living, gives me another powerful reason. And together, those're why I'm asking you to help. I told Elaine that she had to try to find a way to help him to want to be Magnes, rather than the Dark Knight or Superman or the Punisher or whatever other role he thinks he's fulfilling when he does this crazy shit. But she's in her own mental hole right now, and that, frankly, leaves you - since it's pretty clear he doesn't listen to Robyn for longer than she's talking."

Ygraine fixes Sable with a markedly intent look. "So what I'm asking you to do is save him. 'Cause he sure as Hell won't save himself, he won't listen to Quinn, and Elaine's in a very bad place herself right now."

There are very few things Ygraine could have said regarding the furtherance of this topic that wouldn't have ended with Sable taking a swing at her. Ygraine, whether by luck or by true deftness, chooses one of these unlikely paths. Sable does not look happy, a scowl settling in over her brow, but that is a sign that she is, at least, thinking.

"Y' shouldn't've brought it up like that," Sable says, gruffly, "That's no way t' talk 'f a gal's best friend 'n' comrade, what took her in off the streets f'r no reason other th'n kindness. Mebbe y' didn't know 'bout that, but that was still a shit way t' speak 'f him, 'n' if y' weren't threatenin' action like that, y' mebbe shouldn't've begun it like that. Tell me he's gotten int' trouble. Tell me he needs me t' keep him safe and sound. Do not tell me he oughtta be locked up. Y' ain't halfway stupid 'nuff t' think I'd've taken that well…"

Her better hand was a fist for this speech. It loosens now, if only slightly, "Sure as hell you ain't gonna talk him down with that fuckin' attitude. 'n' Quinn just don't know how t' talk t' him. She clams up, gets cold, 'n' gets sharp. So sure… I'll fuckin' keep an eye on him. But you never fuckin' stir up trouble with my band again, dig?"

"I wasn't stirring trouble", Ygraine replies, tone deliberately mild. "Quite the reverse. Unless you think I'm lying about trying to keep him out of state custody - in which case I have no idea what you think I'm up to here by telling you this. I can't even come up with an explanation to fit that."

The Briton's gaze hardens. "But if this is a suitable time for blunt talk and warnings - then do whatever you can to make sure that he never endangers me or the Ferry ever again. And if he puts Robyn or Elaine at risk, be damn sure that their safety comes before his for me, every single time. I've not got the slightest intention of throwing him to the wolves - but it's the love that other people have for him that's motivating me to try to save him from them right now, and that's had me sharing some of my darkest fucking secrets with someone I don't even know, in the hope she'd take me seriously."

Sable's gaze is flinty, her nostrils flaring. She's in a right temper, and it shows. She says nothing for a long time, then, abruptly, she sticks out her hand. "We keep folks safe," she says, "Everyone, dig? You rest in assurance that I'll do all I can t' see my boy's kept in line. We're on the same fuckin' side, arright? We can't lose sight 'f that. You make me mad, girl, but I ain't gonna mistake y' f'r my enemy. My enemy put my arm in a sling. You wanna see these people safe from th' wickedness 'f the law. My loyalty falls on yer side 'f th' line, 'n' thus with you. So shake my hand 'n' lets be sisters, dig?"

Ygraine's own anger is more firmly leashed and somewhat less evident, thanks to years of practice in channelling tension. Still, her gaze remains hard as she watches Sable think, and there's a definite tightness to shoulders and jaw.

The speech, when it comes, is intently listened to, Ygraine's gaze shifting from face to hand and back again. There's a slight pause, then she reaches out to clasp Sable's hand in her own. "If I'm aiming to piss you off, you'll know about it", she says quietly, trying to catch and hold that yellow gaze. A heartbeat's pause, then she dryly adds, "I'll make you even more angry than I normally do. Just… trust me to tell the truth. If I say I'm asking for help, then that's what I'm doing. I won't be setting a trap or trying to trick you. I'll be wanting you to help someone."

Sable's grip is very firm, likely in great part thanks to the anger still pulsing through her in disorganized fashion, needing a target, being denied one. "Trust me t' tell y' th' truth 's well, 'n' t' always keep my fuckin' word," she says, "…can't promise 'bout the swearin' though…" she adds, and a smile cracks her lips. Her anger seems to subside, as quickly as it came. "Jesus… look at you. Y' look like a Bengal fuckin' tiger… all sleek in just barely showin' yer ready f'r the kill. God almighty, what y'd do t' me, I'd never forget." And right back to… flattery. This is Sable's self-directed emotional jujitsu, her own practiced method. What she can't hold in, she lets out some other way.

Perhaps fortunately, Ygraine has no idea whether Sable is referring to violence or… something else when she delivers that comment. As a result, she looks more surprised than bashful, and her blush is distinctly lacking.

"I appreciate the effort, at least, with the swearing", she says, tone dry again, though one side of her mouth lifts into a half smile. "But… Bengal tiger?" Her brows lift again. "I confess that's not one I've heard before, so far as I can recall."

"Well, I tend t' employ an uncommon turn 'f phrase from time t' time," Sable admits, releasing her hand and setting her on her hip, "But I told y', I mean what I say. If Quinngirl feels safe, 'n' as t' yer lady love… I don't think y' need t' worry 'bout losin' yer heart t' me," she grins, "you come see me, hon. I feel like we got some issues, need t' be worked out 'n', like, resolved in a mutually satisfactory manner," despite her euphemism, her tone leaves what she's talking about pretty unambiguous, "I promise t' leave y' little reason t' regret it."

Ygraine's lack of faith in her own ability to read people has her peering uncertainly at Sable even as she blushes once again. "I… ahhh… right", she responds eloquently, abruptly glad that her hand is now free. "Ummmm. I have literally no idea what to say to that."

"Say," Sable says eyes squinting but only to compliment a very feline smile, "Y'll think about it. Even if it's a lie, hon… I'd give me somethin' to hope f'r. Make me excited t' see y'. And that'd be nice, wouldn't it now?"

Ygraine clearly still doesn't entirely trust that she's actually following this conversation. "I… think it's safe to say that I won't forget this particular chat any time soon. And I suspect I'll be mentioning it to Quinn in the near future."

"If it looks t' throw her f'r a bad sort 'f loop," Sable says, tipping a wink to make matters both more confusing and more clear, "Tell 'er I was jokin'. If it throws her f'r a good sort of loop… well…" Her smile flashes teeth, "Y' know I'm serious."

Ygraine lets out a startled and somewhat uncertain laugh, ducking her head and then glancing away to the city before looking back to Sable. "I'll bear it in mind", she says dryly. "Though… I should probably be letting you get back to your… medicinal recreation and herbal pain relief."

Sable blinks. It takes a moment for Ygraine's joke to click, but when it does, Sable breaks out into snickers, likely augmented by referenced herbal pain relief. She nods her head, sticking the nearly depleted joint back between her lips. "Don't mind if I do, gorgeous," she says, lighting up, the coal getting dangerously close to her fingers. Gonna need to improvise a clip soon. "Thanks f'r the talk. I figure we c'n get along. In fact, I'm dearly hopin' we do."

Ygraine coughs, blushing a little as she nods sheepishly. "Ahh. Quite." The shades are flipped back down into position as she rises and moves to the stairwell door, raising a hand in farewell. "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Peace!" Sable calls back, lifting two fingers in a V, between which is lodged her lighter.

Offering Sable a somewhat wobbly smile, Ygraine ducks her head, then slips from sight - relieved to move out of both the glare of the sun and the spotlight of Sable's attention.

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