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diogenes_icon.gif isis2_icon.gif

Scene Title Blah Blah Blah…
Synopsis Isis returns home, and Diogenes helps her uncover what hypocrisy sounds like. It sounds a lot like blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.
Date August 22, 2009

Diogenes's Apartment

What an eerie apartment, scarcely lit by a lone bare lightbulb, screwed into its socket embedded in the scarred ceiling which seems as though it is about to collapse. The walls share a similar amount of cracks, marred by veins of the old sickly green paint that's reluctantly dying and falling off to reveal the ugly cement underneath it. The apartment itself is quite small. There is no hallway; the door opens up directly into the living room that serves as both the kitchen and the dining room as well, and to the left of this room is the ridiculously undersized bathroom, sporting both the bathtub and the toilet that, while unsavory, were made a little bit more hygienic than the two initially were by the flat's owner. The bedroom is situated to the right of the living room, and it's a small one, with a sizeable dresser against the wall opposite of the door-less entrance to the room, a window to the left, and the bed to the right. Cheap bed sheets are left as they were when the man woke up and rose out of it.

A bit farther away from the bedroom was the desk, pushed against the wall. It's amazing it hasn't fallen apart yet, albeit the same could be said about everything in this flat and the apartment itself. Atop the rough, horribly aged wooden surface lies the Bible, a few crumpled up sheets of paper (plenty written on them) and the philosopher's bag. The chair is missing. Well, not exactly; it is broken into useless pieces, lying at the foot of the Eastern wall, paint missing in huge chunks on it. Presumably, the chair flew in the midst of a fit of rage. The old fridge can be found in the left corner next to the exit, with a small table nearby and two chairs pushed up to it. Another noteworthy detail is the large detailed map of New York City above the desk. It has X's, and numerous, differently coloured lines were drawn on the streets, denoting certain routes that connected said marked locations. Some locales have notes attached to them. Finally, this apartment actually has old-fashioned windows. Two of them, at both sides of the desk.

If not for the two critters that were spiralling around and between his calves, Diogenes would predictably be in front of the large map, studying various occurences, events and news. His roomie's cats, however, were quite relentless in their Odyssey for food, and it is only a matter of time until even a person as stubborn as Diogenes surrenders to their cute mewls and soft headbutts.

With a tired sigh, he trudges over to the plate the two are forced to share, and lowers himself onto one knee; having fetched some fish from the fridge, he puts some on the plate. "Dinner's served", he murmurs underneath his breath, looking down at the two felines. "And just why are you so adorable, huh?.. Simple creatures, finding happiness in simple things, and needing so little." Staying at their side in a kneeling position, he watches the two munch on the fish.

Click click. The key in the lock. It could only be one person. Somehow the door today was like a the wrapping on a gift. Isis pushes open the door only a crack, calling in ahead of her. "Tom?"

The little crack widens then, before garnet locks trickle in, followed by the new visage. Isis steps tentatively inside, already anxious for the judgement that is sure to be cast on this new form, and shuts the door behind her with a gentle thud, standing still and quiet. A collection of bags hangs on one arm, her old clothes dangling from the other.

When the simple mechanism that was the door's lock begins twisting and turning noisily, Diogenes dares not to look up for any longer than a mere moment. His eyes return to regard the twin little balls of fur; another sigh escapes him. He did not wish to part with the appearance of the redhead that has grown fond of. However, he has never granted physical appearances much meaning - they often were deceitful, and abilities of Evolved only further proved that - shapeshifters, body snatchers, Evolved who can reshape another's face. He would no doubt miss the old look Isis has had, but he will not make a scene of it.

"You call me by my real name far too often than I'd like", he remarks in what's largely a playful tone, lifting himself back on his feet. His gaze lands on the newly molded redhead, and he keenly examines her new look. It wasn't just the face. And, naturally, it's typical of Diogenes to disguise his true opinion with jests. "Bigger bust. That'll help me get accustomed to the change."

That tone - it instantly breaks Isis's new features into a fond smile. She stands for another long moment before the shopping bags hit the floor with a soft thunk, her new boots, accentuated with sharp, little heels, stealing her forward. She leans her weight against Diogenes as she wraps her arms hurriedly over his shoulders, indulging in the desire for affection before she can change her mind as she is so oft apt to.

She rests her check against the cups of his shoulder, lingering long enough to offer a sigh before hurrying back a step. "Though you might like that," she notes with a wink. "So, come on… What do you really think?" Her expression becomes only slightly more serious as she lifts her arm and spins in a slow circle, looking back over her shoulder all the while to keep Tom's expression within her line of sight.

Initially reluctant to accept and return affection, Diogenes soon finds his lithe arms wrapped around the redhead's small waist. Similar to how her cheek rests against his shoulder, his chin rests on hers. "On the other hand, hugging you now is a lot more awkward", he continues to quip in that uniquely sarcastic tone carried by his raspy voice. "Or pleasant. One of the two, if not both", the man muses as Isis steps away, inviting him to give her new shape another close look. And he certainly accepts that invitation; he was not as lecherous as most men, but he still was very much a man, and Nature cannot be fought.

"I… think… you're in too much of a hurry to grow old", he says, again, with a tinge of satire ringing in his voice, and a grin slowly making its way onto his lips. "Other than that…" Tsk. "See, you've put me in a sticky predicament. If I say you're gorgeous, I'd be saying you were ugly before. If I say you looked better in the past, I'm saying you don't look good now. And to say that you're just as gorgeous as you were might be insulting, depending on how you viewed yourself pre-change." Definitely sounds like Diogenes.

New features arrange into an easy smile as the compliment is hidden among all manner of Dio-twists and turns. Isis airy tones find a soft chuckle as she reaches forward, dancing her fingers absently over Tom's bicep before stepping back. "Forget I asked," she teases, turning away and moving back towards her bags. She takes her older attire and dumps it into the trash with a relieved little sigh.

As Isis goes to fetch her bags, Diogenes, as is fitting for a man, feels his gaze glide down the ripe feminine curves until his eyes are set on her butt. It's hardly anything atypical, considering his gender, and it's all a part of nature. Yes, ogling buttocks is a part of nature.

"You look good", he states, slowly wandering away from the two kittens finishing their royal feast. His steps bring him back to the map, but, as he didn't wish to discuss such matters with Isis; not now, at the very least. He was not the axis of the world, and he was too distracted by the redhead's new appearance to think of anything else. "I don't mean to be Sir Buzzkill-a-lot, but… do you figure you'll be able to find a job, now?.. Theoretically, I could continue blackmailing businessmen, but I don't think that's a career path that I'm… that I'm willing to follow." He clears his throat and turns around to face Isis.

Isis dumps the last article into the trash and begins taking the newly bought pieces of attire from the bags, folding them and designating them into OCD-pleasing piles by color and manner of clothing. "I plan to go chat with Adam," she begins easily enough. "I figure if I tell him who I am and give him an appropriate apology, he might be willing to take me back." She shrugs casually and looks up from her work with a lofted brow.

"I asked my friend." She used the f-word? Friend. Apparantly, she's become a bit more comfortable with the stranger that dragged her off to Washington D.C. "He's going to get me a fake ID. I can't go throwing my name around - the police and HomeSec know me." She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "I'll tell Adam, you know - but, beyond that." She grunts and looks to Tom expectantly.

Although he's expected to agree with the implied pact of silence, it goes way over Tom's head. He wrinkles his nose and furrows his brows at the mere mention of Isis being anywhere near the owner of Biddy's Irish pub. He takes a couple of uncertain steps towards Isis, canting his head to the side curiously. "Adam?", he inquires, as though the two actually knew enough Adams to have a wide enough assortiment to choose from. "The owner of the pub where Ash and Kaylee work?" The questions are never meant to be answered, for their answers are far too obvious to be voiced by either party. "Adam — The same Adam, whose employee - Ash - came home to your apartment completely soaked in blood? The same Adam who has a powerful telepath scrubbing the bar counter?"

Diogenes lowers his chin and frees a brief chuckle. "You've completely changed your body after jumping into a swamp of troubles, and the first thing you want to do is to get into even more trouble?.." He looks up at Isis once more. "Don't think he's going to let you get away with just pub work. There's more to him than meets the eye, and more often than not, that spells trouble — you know it. You love it." His voice grows sterner, and he moves back towards his map. "I won't stop you — Not that I can."

The telepath. She'd forgotten about that. Isis turns her new visage back down to the piles of cloth with a sigh, listening silently until Dio's speech winds down to a close. She looks up, finding his back, with a lofted brow. Again she works on instinct before her usual walls can disuade the impuse - she pushes to her feet and slips forward. Touch was still awkward, and so the only bit she allows herself is to dip her head forward, resting it upon the back of Dio's neck so that her hair tickles forward to kiss at the back of his shirt. "You care," she taunts on a teasing, sing-song note.

"Listen," she offers more seriously, lifting a hand and absently drawing lazy shapes on the back of Tom's shirt. "I've worked at the Pub before. I'm sure most of my work will be there, and I think I've proven myself capable of handling some side jobs, if he'll allow it. At least I'm getting paid - unlike you, heroboy, tracking down the Sandman just for shits and giggles." She grins, though the beautiful expression is shared only with the floor.

Yes, he cared. Diogenes cared for Isis, but he could not admit that, because if he did, surely he would supplement such a comment with the fact that he also does not wish to be involved in things he is not well versed in. He did not want to be plunged into uncertainty. He has already done that mistake once, and although he'd love to pat himself on the back, it was naught but a miracle that he walked out of Biddy's alive that day.

With a frustrated sigh, he walks over to the wall adorned by the gargantuan poster, and he leans forth with both of his hands resting against it above his head. "Sandman is a hobby", he murmurs, clearly putting all of his effort to restrain himself and phrase his thoughts as politely as he can. "It's like riding a bicycle… in a challenge course of doom and death, but it's still very much… just a hobby. And as I do so—" Briskly, the dark haired man lifts his chin and stares blankly at the multitude of colours decorating the map. "As I do so, I am no one's puppet. No one's pulling at my leash, no fear of someone walking on my back. I stand before no one but God, and, as both of us know, he punishes the good, not the wicked", he points out with an increasingly prominent smirk. "And I did nothing that would require a full body makeover to lose heat. I do not lunge into the unknown. Adam almost had his army of thugs beat me into an unreocgnisable bloody pulp because I dived into the unknown."

Steadily shaking his head, he continues his lecture: "You're not six and I'm not your dad. But at least… At least when you're doing something stupid, admit it." He lowers his gaze with a sigh. "If benefits outweigh the costs…" His voice trails off into silence, and he makes a 'go head' gesture, one of his hands temporarily leaving the wall. "There's a saying in my tongue. Those who do not risk, do not deserve to sip champagne at the end of the day." Was that approval? Hard to tell.

Isis leans back as Tom's gaze turns back to her. One corner of her lips tilts up in a soft smile as the translated quote reaches her. She doesn't comment - she doesn't need to. Instead she leans forward and steals a kiss from Tom's cheek. When the chaste touch fades, she watches after Diogenes a moment longer before wandering a few backward paces away.

"I should go get my job back," she comments with a smirk. "Then? I want to take you out to dinner soon. Deal?" She winks. "Stay out of trouble, D." With that she turns and slips towards the door.

Diogenes inhales deeply before heaving a theatrical sigh.

"You're paying", he warns her, straightening out and watching her go as he looks over his shoulder. He usually isn't enchanted by kisses or any sort of sensual shenanigans, but Diogenes has figured out quite a while ago that Isis completely messes up the way Diogenes thinks. He snorts, and turns back to the map. The Sandman. Curiously enough, she's been popping up here and there in Staten. Staten Island. That's territory of the wild and the treacherous. The Unknown that he's so afraid of.

He steps away from his desk and walks over to the fridge. Time for the champion snack!

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