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Scene Title Breadcrumbs
Synopsis Colette and Trent have a discussion concerning southern belles.
Date November 5, 2008

Columbia University

A member of the Ivy League, Columbia University was one of the first colleges established in the United States. Its buildings and greenswards occupy over 32 acres in Morningside Heights; the university offers a number of quality degrees, from law to nursing, and is also the home of the Pulitzer Prize. Its student body is very diverse, and active in myriad pursuits, from student-run WKCR, what may be the oldest FM radio station in the world, to the Columbia University Organization of Rising Entrepreneurs. It is home to thirteen fraternities, four sororities, and several multicultural organizations.

"You asshole!" A door slams shut, followed by a hurried pace of boots on a tile floor, "Do you have any idea how worried I was!? And you totally didn't call you big stupid jerk!" With her hands balled up into fists and her arms thrown down to her sides, Colette looks something like a bright red blowfish, what with the way her cheeks are puffed out in irritation as she stares down the older man standing across the lab from her.

With a scuffing of his chair up from his seat, Trent rises with his head canted to the side, "C-Colette?" Ine hand stays steady on the back of his chair, eyes wide in confusion. "What're you — Jesus christ, keep your voice down…" He practically hisses out those words, walking across the empty lab, "You're lucky it's lunch break. Look, I told you when I gave you bus fare that I'd be okay." He looks conspiratorially towards the door to the lab over Colette's shoulder when he finishes clearing the distance between them.

"That girl, she…" Colette looks away for a moment, then back to Trent with more determination. "We've gotta find her, she could totally fix Judah!" The tone of her voice becomes a pleading one, and Trent's expression shifts from irritation to frustrated sympathy. He runs one hand across his face, fingers raking through his hair.

"I've seen her before." His eyes scan Colette uncertainly, "But look, Judah is a cop, right? She's not going to want to go anywhere near — " Colette wrinkles her nose and stomps one foot, bringing a sleeve-covered hand up to Trent's face with a single index finger extended, brandishing at him.

"He'd never tell anybody nothin!" The girl squeaks out, both of her mis-matched eyes showing more fury and adamancy than Trent's accustomed to. He leans back from the wagging finger, then uses the back of one hand to swep it aside.

"Colette." He sighs, heavily, "Look, fine. She works down at a diner called the Night Owl in Chelsea. But you can't go in there and make a scene, do you understand?" Trent's eyes scan the girl's, wavering from side to side. "There's people out there, ones that would want to lock her up just for what she can do."

"Stop being such a dumbass!" Colette shouts, waving one hand around, "Yeah, I know, the government's all spooky and stealy and stuff — You're spouting all that terrorist crap all of the time, it's dumb, that's not how things are at — "

"Colette!" Trent shouts, despite his own intentions to keep her quiet, she was making enough of a scene as it was. That shout causes Colette to shrink back, her eyes growing wide and her shoulders rolling forward, like a dog that had been beaten enough to know what a raised newspaper means. Trent immediately hesitates when he sees the look in her eyes, taking a step back and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, look, it's just — "

"No." Colette says sternly, "I get it." She blinks her eyes, flicking them away from Trent when they open again. In that same moment, hr shoulders turn and she starts to head for the lab door. Trent, though, strains out a sigh and chases after her, resting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running off and making an idiot of herself.

"Colet — "

"Don't fucking touch me!" Colette snarls out, whacking the hand away with her eyes reddened around the edges, face flushed and one hand curled into a fist at her side. "Judah is the only family I've got! You still have family! You didn't lose anyone! You don't know how hard it's been for me!" She's shaking with frustration and anger now, "All I've ever done is take from him, I need to do this! I need to give him something back for everything he's given me!" She takes a step forward, "You don't have any id — "


Colette's voice quiets immediately, eyes wide and head turned to the side, one cheek more red than the other. She breathes in a shuddering and quick breath, as if afraid to make the sound of breathing. Trent isn't entirely aware of the mistake he's just made, but the same look of tearful expression in his eyes is telling that he's working on emotion, not logic at the moment. "Don't you dare fucking say that I didn't lose anyone!" The venom in his tone is the extra proof. "I lost two good friends and a professor who I liked a whole fuck of a lot better than my dad in the bomb! Don't you give me any shit about not understanding! I understand!"

Trembling, Colette backs away from Trent, one hand covering her cheek. She blinks again, this time tearfully, the coolness of them rolling down her flushed cheeks a stark contrast to their heat. She lets out one, strangled whimper, but then turns from weak and submissive to angry and vitrolic, "Go fuck yourself, Trent! You don't know anything!" The girl shrieks out, turning around and storming towards the lab door.

Seeing that look in Colette's eyes, Trent hesitates, reaching out, "Hey, wait, Colette!" She swings the door open, then slams it shut loudly. "Fuck, fuck, god fucking damnit!" Chasing after her, he grabs the door knob and rushes out into the busy hall full of students coming back from lunch. His eyes scan up and down both sides of the hall, followed by another — more muffled — curse. "Scott is going to fucking kill me if this blows up." He eyes the crowd again, then with a sigh steps back into the lab with a rough close of the door, muffling another strong of profanity.

But at least she got what she wanted, for better or worse.

November 5th: Remember, Remember
November 5th: Where Loyalties Lie
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