Participants:
| Scene Title | Bullshokey |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Possibly the most disturbing conversation ever. |
| Date | November 22, 2010 |
Three o'clock in the morning, can't even close my eyes begins a song by B.B. King, and a sleepless Nick York can commiserate, though it's not pining for a lost loved one that keeps him awake.
It's the images that haunt him in his sleep.
After walking the ramparts of the castle for the past hour, though it's not his shift to keep watch, he finally heads back indoors, cheeks red from the wintry air, the black tuque pulled down as low as possible to keep ears and neck warm. Not ready to sleep, however, he does laps through the castle's corridors, haunting the castle like some melancholy Hamlet.
Hamlet's life was simple in comparison. Nick would have swapped places with the sweet prince in a moment. Indecision was never Nick's weakness; rash actions, on the other hand may be.
It seems he is not the only one up when they don't have to be. While she had her own place, her own room, it didn't matter how many times a nightmare woke Lynette up; no one else would ever know. But here, with three other people crammed into a tiny room… well, it's not the most dignified of existences.
So it is that Nick's wandering brings him to the room they're using as a dining hall, empty now except for one blonde woman and the deck of cards she's using to cheat at solitaire with just now. She even whistles to herself as she does so.
As Nick enters the hall, he gives Lynette a nod, moving to the sideboard where they keep coffee and hot water and the like for those on night duty. He pours himself a mug of hot water, then finds one of the tea packets — having bought a case to bring with him on the return trip from Manhattan a few days ago.
Letting the tea bag steep, he turn to watch her for a moment, noticing when she slips a card out of order onto one of the stacks.
"My grandmother used to say it isn't cheating if no one sees," Nick muses from his corner, but his lips quirk into a crooked half smile. "Too bad I saw."
"Well, then I have you to blame for ruining my stellar reputation, don't I?" Lynette says with a mirror of that crooked smile. "Did you just come in from a supply run?" she inquires, possibly searching for why in the world anyone would be awake just now.
"And pour me a cup, won't you? This castle is freezing with this weather." She's from LA. It's not natural, this temperature! "So how aware are you that you're becoming our very own local folk hero?"
Nick chuckles lightly, and shakes his head at the first question. "Nah, just couldn't sleep. Been walking," he says lightly as he pulls another mug out, pours the hot water and adds the tea bag. "You want sugar or cream or anything in it?" he asks.
His brows twitch as she mentions him being a folk hero, and he shakes his head, cheeks coloring a touch more than just from the cold. He hasn't talked to anyone since the convoy came in last night, departing to some dark corner of the castle as soon as it was clear they were in the hands of people more capable than he. "I didn't do nothin' no one else would've."
"Sugar would be fantastic," Lynette says, shoving her cards into a pile as she looks over her shoulder at him. "Oh no, and he's modest, too," she says to his blushing and protests, her tone teasing. "I do think you're doomed."
She's not laughing at you, Nick, she's laughing with you. Just a little, amused chuckle. "I heard someone say you were running through the convoy, releasing prisoners under fire, with little more than your rampant bravery to aid you. I can't wait to see what the children think."
He grabs a couple of packets of sugar and brings her the first cup, then returns to the second to add creamer and sugar. No fresh milk unless he goes to the kitchen, so he'll just have to deal.
He grimaces a little at her words, but brings his cup with him to slip into a seat across from hers. "It wasn't like that," Nick says quietly, not looking at her but staring into his cup. "In fact, I probably screwed up and I'm lucky more people didn't get hurt." He hasn't been yelled at by Raith or Epstein yet but he's sure that's inevitable.
Nick glances up at her, tired blue eyes studying her face. "You're one of the leaders, yeah? But I forget your name, I'm sorry. Not good with names." That's a bit of a lie — he usually remembers names rather well, but his mind has been on other things.
"Well, of course," Lynette says with a softer smile. "It's never as pretty as it is in the stories, darling. Don't worry, the fanfare will fade. This too shall pass, all that."
Picking up her cup, she takes a little sip, testing the temperature before she sets it down to let it cool a little more. "Lynette. I'm sort of new to the job, myself. We have yet to see how I'll be screwing up," she says, her smile turning crooked.
"Fanfare?" Nick says, eyes widening a little. While in his work he's been thanked a few times by a few victims he's managed to rescue, most of the time he's too far undercover for them to know his part; hero is not a role that Nick sees himself cast in. He doesn't know that after his "death," the story of his insurrection on the way to the gas chamber gave some of those in the camp hope.
"I don't … I don't deserve any of that, an' I don't want it," he says with a shake of his head. "I'll probably be out of your hair soon — came back with the supplies, stayed for the convoy, that sorta thing, but I'm just one more mouth to feed that you shouldn't need to worry 'bout. I'll be okay out there." He juts a chin in the direction of a door, suggesting the greater, wider world.
Nick lifts his cup to take a sip before nodding back at her. "You'll do fine. That bird girl, she's got a good head on her shoulders."
"Of course you don't. No one ever does," Lynette says, which… is something of a jaded outlook, but unapologetically so, "But people need hope. These people, especially. Hell, we're living in a castle on an island, hiding from the government and a lot of the time, we don't even have hot water. They need it and they'll find it. You all struck a blow against the very thing they're afraid of. It means something to everyone."
Reaching over, she gives his arm a little pat, almost comfortingly. "Sorry that it's on you, but what can you do? Disappearing into the night, that'll just make it better. You'll be like… Robin Hood or Zorro or something. But I hope you know you're welcome back anytime."
Picking up her cup for an actual drink, her eyebrows lift over the edge for a moment. "Eileen? Yeah, she does. She's very serious, but I suppose, being in her position, that's inevitable."
Robin Hood? Zorro? Nick stares at her and then gives a short huff of a laugh and shakes his head. "All I did was cut some padlocks, Lynette, but thanks. I guess if it gives someone hope, it's a good thing."
The expression on his face doesn't really suggest he sees it as a good thing. He takes another sip of tea and makes a face. "Powdered creamer — disgusting." But he takes another swallow, rather than to let any of the supplies go to waste.
"So why are you up?" he asks, realizing it's strange that she's up and playing cards at 3 a.m. in the dining hall. He nods to the game laid out on the table. "If you get tired of cheating by yourself, we can play somethin.'"
"What?" Lynette says to that staring. "You know, swoop in, perform good deeds, swoop out again? It's a good system! People don't seem nearly as heroic when you get to know them. Usually."
When he turns the conversation onto her, she blinks a moment, then looks down at her cards. "I'm addicted to card games," is what she eventually says, not even bothering to sound serious, "I can't help it. The sound of a good shuffle, the delight of a royal flush… That's what it's called, right?"
Abigail missed a fleck of blood on her cheek, back near her ear. Likely because it was hidden by her hair when she looked in the mirror and tried to wash it all off. The exhausted EMT has been put to far more use than she ever had in Ferry matters, digging bullets out of the abdomen of former company agents, sitching people up. Howards comment of 'Doc' the other night wasn't that far off and neither was Conrads suggestion way back when. She could do it, has the skills to potentially do it if she put her heart and head into it.
But it's moot now, on the run, and Megans teaching her field medicine instead. At some point her stomach decided that the pyromorph needed food and if she wouldn't go and get some it would start to eat itself. And some coffee. She still had a few more hours to stay up, to sit vigil over Lashirah Lee and make sure nothing went south. WHich means she's shuffling in somewhat single focused, pausing when she's inside and surprised at the presence of people at this hour. More than one person actually and just stares at them.
Nick glances up when Abby appears behind Lynette, and gives her a nod. "Mornin', Abby. You want some coffee or tea?" he offers. "Though really you look like you need sleep mostly… you must be exhausted."
Of course, he looks exhausted too — he only got 45 minutes of sleep before being shook from slumber with dreams of Treblinka, only it wasn't his current self that was being sent to the gas chambers but the little boy version of Nicholas Ruskin he'd aimed a gun at in a train.
He stands and moves toward the pots of hot water and coffee, glancing at Abby for a reply. "You can play a game of Go Fish with me an' Lynette here, if you need to take your mind off things."
"Just stay away from the creamer. We've determined it's hardly worth it," Lynette says, tacking her opinion onto Nick's first words. She, too, looks like she could use sleep, but isn't getting it. And for far less noble reasons that their medic.
"We're just passing the time. Please, join us. You look like you could use a break." She nods to Nick's offer of Go Fish, and even pats the table in invitation to the pyro.
"Can't sleep yet. Maybe in a few hours" And then it'll be only for a few hours. Likely sleep through breakfast. Time really, she's found here, has no meaning at all. "Coffee and thanks, about the creamer but I take my coffee unadulterated." Which means she'll be spared the creamer that they have subjected themselves too.
"go fish, sounds better than chase the bullet round Lash's intestines if you ask me. Less brain power and consequences if I fail" Looks like Nick is getting her coffee and he well knows the whole chase the bullet thing. She and Eileen did it for him not too long ago. "Both of you can't sleep?"
Nick pours a cup of black coffee for Abby and returns to the table, setting it down and resuming his place.
He shakes his head at her query. "Nah. I'll catch a nap tomorrow or something, maybe. Still wound up, too much adrenaline or somethin'," he says, but his glance down into his tea suggests that's not altogether true, as do the dark circles beneath his too-thin face. "She gonna be okay?" he asks, glancing up at Abby. "The others, too?"
"It's just one of those nights, apparently," Lynette says, waving off the lack of sleep dismissively. "I'm glad to hear Lashirah made it back to us… what about… Griffin? Handsome fellow, walks with a limp, pronounced nose? Was he with the prisoners?" There is a flash of what may just be real concern there as she looks between the two, despite her tone being more flippant.
"Yup, She'll live. She'll have a really beautiful scar, Megan wouldn't let me stitch her up to look like it was Hello Kitty on her" Lame attempt at a joke, so's the smile on her face as she gets comfortable, radiating off a nice heat that's much the same. Comfortable, for those near her. "But everyone who came off the boats and needed help is fine. Sore, stitched, bruised and battered, but their fine. Physically that is" Mentally is a whole other boat and she could wish that they had a shrink here, but they don't.
"Griffins around. He showed up to the memorial but I couldn't stop and talk to him, he looks fine. I was gonna go find him and check on him. Make sure he's got what he needs" After she gets some sleep though. The coffee is taken, tested for heat and lifted to her lips so she can sip.
"Good to know. Good job," Nick adds, glancing at Abby through the corner of his eyes. "You be sure to get some sleep, though, or you won't be much good to anyone in the infirmary when you put yourself in a cot from exhaustion."
He glances at Lynette's spread of cards and taps a four on the end of one pile, then taps the five it can be added onto. So much for solitaire. It's now a team sport.
Stifling a yawn, he brings his tea back to his lip for another sip. He's more tired than he's letting on.
"We're lucky to have you here. All of you medical types, really." Because without them, they'd all be pretty screwed. "Do you need anything to help out down there? I'm no surgeon, but I can grab instruments and wipe foreheads. Or bring food. I did the whole intern shebang when I was in college, that sort of training never leaves you," Lynette says, her own attempt at joking.
"Oh good, he's around. I'll have to find him some time." Hearing that he's well, apparently, is enough to wipe that concern off her face. She looks back to the cards when Nick taps them, chuckling a bit as she moves the four into place. "I'm not sure if needing a team on this game is any more reassuring than needing to cheat."
"I was an EMT. Twelve hour shifts then running a bar. I've never been a good sleeper the last few years so I get by on quite a few at a time. I promise I'll nap when I can Nick if that will make you feel better" She confesses. "Besides, Megan won't let me in, if she doesn't think I haven't had enough sleep. But thanks for the concern. How are the both of you holding up?" watching the cards being placed, not really having anything to add in that fashion unless the game gets switched. "Megan and I can always use help, Lash isn't gonna be on solid food for a few days, so she could probably use some help eating"
At the question as to how he's holding up, Nick exhales another low huff of a laugh. "Yeah, this is fine. Better'n I'm used to lately, to be honest." Abby's seen him on Staten, so she'll probably assume the Rookery. "Better food, better sleeping arrangements." He doesn't add that it's actually warmer than where he was for the three weeks before he landed in the middle of Nov. 8.
"You wanna play something? What's got three players, Gin?" he says, nodding to the cards. "Poker, but I ain't doing no strip poker with you ladies, it's too damn cold." He's teasing of course.
"Help eating, that I can do." Lynette smiles a bit over at Abby, nodding her head a little as she starts picking up the cards to shuffle. "Oh, fine, Nick. But next summer, you owe us a game," she says, that smile turning crooked. "What else… Bullshit can have three players." She looks over at Abby as she passes Nick the deck, waiting for the other woman's opinion.
"I dunno Gin and Bullshokey isn't exactly something I got taught how to play" Come on. Religious Baptist. Odds are it's crazy eights, go fish and solitaire are the top of her learned games.
Oh, but she knows how to play twenty one. "Don't let me hold you up though, I just don't really rightly know how to play those"
"I think we called it Bullocks," Nick says quietly. "It's easy — if it's the same game. It's not dirty. We can call it BS, or Bull, or whatever, you don't have to say a bad word, Miss Abby." He gives her an amused look and maybe — possibly — tries to remember to watch his mouth around her.
"If it's the same game, you get a hand of cards and you have to put down pairs or higher in the pot, trying to get rid of your cards first. But you don't show what you got. Like, I might say I got three Aces and set them down face down, and you have two aces, you know I'm full of … crap…" he's trying, "and you say BS or whatever euphemism floats your li'l southern boat. Then I have to pick up all the cards in the pot at that time, which obviously sucks for me, because I'm tryin' to get rid of my hand, not take more. Whoever runs outta cards first wins."
"When I was a kid, we called it 'Psych'. But it was the Eighties," Lynette says, as if the name needed an explanation. Or apology. "And you go up the chain of numbers. Ace, twos, threes, etc. Until someone wins." Lynette takes a sip of her drink before setting it aside. "It's easy to learn. Come on, Zorro, deal us a round."
"I think I can do it then, don't so bad once it's explained" She can say Bull-something. Plus sounds like it doesn't really need that much brain power. Another lift of the coffee cup to her lips she wades off Nick's attempt to curb his languge. "I just don't like the F-bomb and the other big words like that. Just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't like others. Besides. Even the f-bomb has it's time and place. I've said it a few times myself" Usually when really mad.
Or going to implode. "Lets play"
Nick nods toward Abby — he owes her his life and she's kept his secret, so he'll do his best by her. Even if letting him live wasn't what he asked for her to do, at the time. "I'll try'n keep that in mind. 'Sides, there's kids around and probably good for me to edit myself a bit." He has to edit his English accent; it shouldn't be too hard to hold in a few f-bombs, as Abby puts it.
"Deal away, Lyn," Nick nods to Lynette. "But I warn you, I've got a devastatingly good poker face." He should — but unfortunately for him, it's not quite where Avi Epstein would like it to be.
"Well, we'll see about that," Lynette says to Nick's poker face, shuffling one more time before she deals out the cards. "Artfully placed cursing," she says to Abby's words, her smile amused, "I like that. Gives them a real punch in the moment." When she's got things all dealt, she picks up her hand to give it a look over. Hmm Hmm. "All sixes, how did that happen?" Nevermind that there are definitely more than four cards in hand.
A game that rely's on ones ability to lie? Yeah, Abby's destined not to win as she gathers up her share of the cards, shuffling them here and there, putting the min proper order in ascending numbers, licking her lips at some of the numbers that she has. "Artful cursing, I guess you might call it that. Jsut my parents never rightly subscribed to cursing, though my Dah did a lot of it the day he embedded an axe in his leg. I must been… thirteen? First time I ever heard him swear. That was followed by my momma cursing up a storm when I healed his leg not long after"
"Bullsh— hooey," Nick says with a wink at Lynette's "all sixes" comment, glancing at Abby as if for approval on his mid-word correction. His brows rise. "Healing? But you — you're … whoosh—" he realizes maybe talking about her power in front of Lynette isn't polite, not sure how much of a secret it is. "Er, sorry."
He glances down at his hand, moving cards around, dark brows furrowing under the black tuque he wears.
Lynette doesn't notice a thing. Not so much as a lifted eyebrow for the little slip up. She just hmms over her cards and then looks up at Abby with a crooked smile. "Well, if you can't curse when you axe your own leg, when can you? But, you know, my father doesn't curse, either. He thinks it's undignified. He's a lawyer," she adds with a touch of wry humor.
But she plucks two cards out of her hand and lays them face down on the table. "Two aces," she says with a smile. She's going first, apparently.
Folks on the council know, or are soon to know, that "yes, I go woosh, into fire. I didn't always go woosh. I used to go 'hands of god, the power of christ compels your cells to rearrange' as he saw fit to make them!" Two aces. She can't fight that, she's got only one, it's quite possible, so she doesn't say anything, letting Nick speak up bullshoey if he likes.
"I had a run in, with someone who could switch around abilities. He took the lords gift, gave it to another and I got left with nothing till recently. YOu haven't figured out why this room is nice and warm? It's not because there's central heat here" There's a smile at that and if there's no objects to the aces, she puts down her own cards. "Two Two's" Truth in that, she's not ready to lie.
"Huh. It is warmer," Nick says, just realizing it, and unbuttoning his coat, unwinding his scarf, and finally pulling off his knit cap, revealing his close-shaved hair that's thankfully growing in a bit more, currently at about 1/4th of an inch all over his head. "Thanks for that. I kinda was so numb I didn't realize I wasn't cold anymore."
Threes. Shit, he has no threes, so he sets two down, lying. "Two Threes."
"I got healed a bit back for the first time," he nods to Abby, not knowing it was the same power but a different set of hands wielding that gift. After all, how could it be?
"God's mercy to God's judgment. That's a little ironic," Lynette says as she looks over her cards. "But that must have been difficult to get used to, such a stark change in ability."
The blonde's gaze slides over to Nick, a smirk coming to her face, "I thought we weren't playing strip games tonight. Also, bullshit." She even taps the cards, just for emphasis.
"I never thought of it like that" Gods Judgement. It certainly gives Abigail food for thought, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear that two seconds later, slides back forward because it's too short to stay there. "I miss it, others miss me doing it. Made life easier for them, somewhat easier for me. I don't miss the tired that came with it. There's a man named Francois, he had it before me, seems it was sort a.. travelling ability? Like a body jumper but an ability" No wince at the use of bullshit, she just holds her cards and looks to see if Lynette was right. "I gotta go with her on this one, I think you're pulling the wool over our eyes and failing"
"Ah, f— damn." Better. Nick reaches for the few cards in the pot, adding them to his hand and fanning them out, though a slight smile of amusement lights his face. He listens to Abigail talk, and just nods — he doesn't know Francois' name, just that a Frenchman healed him in Poland. "I didn't know powers could do that," he says quietly.
"I talked to a girl once who was used a lot for her power, and I think it's done her a lot of harm. I have to say, Abby, healing seems to be the kind of power that's just begging for other people to feel they can use you whenever they want. And I think that sucks." So the change? She's a fan, apparently. "Two fours," Lynette adds as she puts her cards down.
To Nick, though, all she can do is spread her hands, "These days? Anything's possible."
Silence. Not from what Nick said but from what Lynette said. Awkward silence followed by "Three fives" there's only two, plus one king. Abby's looking at her own cards, the whole kidnapping thing still to this day a sore point and low point of having her ability. So far no ones kidnapped her to melt gold or fuel a furnace. There's a plus!
He doesn't call bullshit on either play, and nods. "That's true. I didn't know anyone who was … what's the new term, SLC-Expressive? 'til a year ago, now I can't spit without hitting someone," he says lightly. "Not that that's a bad thing — most of the time. Sometimes it is." He scowls a touch at that — time travelers flinging him in the Nazi-Occupied Poland, he can definitely do without. Ex boyfriends with the ability to make him lose focus on the most important mission of his life, he definitely could do without.
"Two sixes." That's the truth, apparently he's playing it safe after the last lie.
"I grew up with one, so it's not all that odd for me," Lynette notes as she looking her cards over a bit. She isn't calling them on their cards, though, seems they're believable this time. "Three sevens," she notes as she puts three down. She seems to be a decent liar, herself, as her expression just simply doesn't change from round to round.
Or maybe she just doesn't lie.
Right.
"Two eights" One eight, a four as well. "I guess, I just.. I like peoples abilities. I like.. seeing them used, I like hearing how they discovered it. How many kinds there are. I've met so many people with some of the same abilities and yet, they're not the same. And then I met some that I just didn't ever wanna know. Telekinetics? I don't like Telekinetics as an ability" As a person, they're perfectly fine.
"Chemical manipulators. I know one. I don't like him"
"Two nines." Nick's a little braver this time — there's one, anyway — as he lays down the cards. "Chemical manipulator?" he echoes, his cogs working in his head as he considers the feeling of euphoria that came over him on the train. He scowls. "That'd like, make you feel high, maybe, if you weren't, yeah?"
He rearranges more cards, waiting for them to call or not on his bullshitting. "Well, I ain't anything. Though I'm starting to think maybe I have, like, nine lives. Is that an ability?" He's kidding, of course. "But nah, I'm negative. In all the blood tests that matter." Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Only he's not really trying.
"I think that's just luck, darling," Lynette says to Nick's proposed 'ability', an amused smile on her face. "I don't much care for the mental abilities in the wrong hands. Telepathy, dream walking, persuasion," she says dryly. But, her amusement isn't long gone, as something in Abby's words makes her smile again. "Four tens." She's just spicing things up, really, as she lays down those cards.
"Yeah, that's part of what he could do. Negate too. Or send you mile high in a panic" Nope, no calling on the nines, but she's calling on the tens that Lynette just put down, oh yes she is. "Bullshoey to that Lynette, I don't believe you one bit and I know a speedster who I swear, he does have nine lives because every time I got called to his bedside, he was like in a coma or pretty darn close or deaths door. I think he's on his last two. He hasn't really gotten dinged since I lost it."
"On the negative blood tests? I'm sure it's just luck," Nick quips. There's an ease here that he rarely finds — perhaps it's the kindred spirit of insomniacs, or the warmth from Abby's proximity, but for now, the nightmares and guilt and other shadows feel far away.
His dark lashes drop as he waits for Abby to make her next move. If the chemical manipulator is the same person, should he feel touched that Logan chose euphoria over panic? "And nah, I don't think it's luck," he adds a little less cheerily. Abby probably knows he doesn't believe he deserves to live, that it's more punishment each time he somehow pulls through.
Lynette can't help but chuckle as she's called out, and she picks up that stack, adding quite a few cards to her hand. "Well, I probably won't have to lie for a while now…" Nick's quip gets a good natured laugh from the woman, but as he sobers, she follows, too, a lift of her eyebrow in reply. "I suppose I should feel lucky I haven't had that sort of close call. Actually, the eighth was my first gunshot wound, even. The leg. I feel like I should take a picture of it and frame it. It can go next to the picture of my first Christmas."
Abby calls that another chance at Redemption. Not Luck. "I lost my tongue" Time to compare wounds, not a game of who's been hurt worse, she's not aiming for that. "It got lopped right off so that I couldn't pray. I've been shot a few times and I got electrocuted not too long ago. I think that I don't wanna get shot for another great amount of time. It's not fun, I got two queens" And they aren't. One king and an ace.
Blue eyes peer up at Abby, Nick's face blanching. He drops his gaze again, and shakes his head. "Jesus, Abby, I'm sorry," he mutters, then smiles at Lynette. "I ain't ever checking out your photo album, Lyn."
His attention goes back to the pile and he shakes his head. "And I thought you were such an honest thing. Bolshevic," he says, nodding to the pile. He has three queens, so she can't have two. "Pick 'em up."
He rearranges his cards again. Is it the candidness of these two women talking to him, or is he actually needing to reach out? For whatever reason, he's more talkative than usual, and he says in a softer voice, "Sounds fucking nuts but you know that Nazi jacket I showed up with? The one that Petrelli kid was wearing the other day." He has a bad habit of calling people older than him kid.
"I, uh, some time traveler threw me into World War II."
He doesn't elaborate, just trailing off there.
Lynette just stares a moment before she states emphatically, "Okay, that is fucked up." She feels justified in the F-Bomb usage in this situation. "Aren't we supposed to be beyond religious discrimination by now?"
She does manage a smirk for Nick's comment her way, but the thought that the only people likely to be seeing her photo albums are… well, the Institute, if they look things during the raid, it makes her frown again.
And then she blinks. "A time traveler threw you into World War II?" Lynette looks over at Abby there, "Am I allowed to use the heavy hitter twice in a row?" It's a rhetorical question, as she looks back to Nick, "That's a pretty shitty thing to do."
"If I was an honest thing, I wouldn't have been charged with willfully subverting the registration" She points out to Nick, picking back her cards with a smile. "And don't be sorry. I nailed him with my bible. It's a long story. It was revenge for me sporking his eye. I got my tongue back in the end, as you can see. Not quite mine, but I got it back. I don't remember much about loosing it other than I mercifully fainted before they did it" Well, did most of it.
There's a bark of laughter now from Abby, her hand slapping over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh my Lord. Hiro Nakamura messing with you or was this other fellow who was going back and doing all these shenanigans? Hiro Nakamura, lover of cinnamon buns and meddler in time or well, protector of time. Something like that."
Germany though. "Francois, Allegre, frenchman? You said you got healed. Peter was with you."
Nick sets down his cards — the game seems derailed. "Hiro Nakywha?" he says, shaking his head. "Sporked eye? And whose tongue do you have?"
He runs a nervous hand over his short-cropped hair and swallows, shaking his head. "Peter wasn't with me. He just grabbed that jacket here 'cause it was snowing, I guess, and he stumbled across it wherever I stowed it. I don't fuckin' want it, he can have it," he says bitterly.
His wary eyes flicker from Abby to Lynette and back. "It was a Frenchman who healed me, yeah. They pulled me outta a pile of bodies fresh from the gas chamber," he says quietly, eyes back down to his now lukewarm tea.
He suddenly looks up, his jaw muscles twitching. "Don't tell her."
Lynette sets her cards down, too, because she's got to stare some. "I second his question. Whose tongue?" Sporking a man in the eye, that she seems to understand, at least.
And then Nick adds his fun adventure time to the mix and Lynette's jaw just… drops. She doesn't know what to say exactly. Her mouth works a bit as she tries, but being healed after the gas chamber in WWII? That's… a little beyond her experience. Buh…
"Dunno actually. I mean, the woman regrew it. Something that I never want her to do ever again because I threw up so badly it felt like… worms… in my tongue…" She never really thought about it. "But whenever I healed myself or the person who go it after, healed me, it was like.. a sinkhole?" Abby shakes her head, sticking it out for both of them to see, "ahhhhhh" See, looks normal. Not strange.
She pulls her tongue back in though, nodding to Nick. "Sounds like Francois. He lived until 1995. Then the healing transferred to me when I was just a little sprout. And then, well. It went to someone else and then it was destroyed in Mexico. and I won't tell." Tell who? Abby's not saying. But she's got an idea of who he means.
"I wonder if my husband things about that… when he's kissing me….." Does Robert think like they just did? That'd be kinda awkward. 'Who's turn was it?"
Another humorless huff of a laugh comes from Nick and he shakes his head, scowling down at the cards on the table. "I lost track," he says a little morosely, the memories from Poland welling up in him. He shakes his head. "Maybe bedtime."
"You know, you both are giving me second thoughts about this hero business," Lynette says dryly when she finds her words again. Worms. She's going to have nightmares about worms in her tongue now. It sends a shudder right through her.
She looks up as Nick huffs, and she puts her chin in her hand. "You know, I lost track, too."
"Naw, don't. It's worth it. Nick can go to bed, you can walk me back to medical. I'll tell you about the little girl who I gave her arm back too. She alone, made it worth it" Abby offers, reaching out with a bit of hesitation and a squeeze of his shoulder before taking her hand back. That's the only touch he'll get and even then, it's likely a surprise. But then again, He saw her implode before. 'Get with you, to bed, EMT's orders. Try and sleep"
"Sorry," Nick mutters, clearly no longer in the mood for the game. It's hard to pick up "bullshoey" after talking about losing tongues and being pulled out of a pile of corpses.
"I'll get the mugs, you ladies have a good night." He gathers up the empty cups, using the "bus boy" duty as an excuse to head out of the room toward the kitchen to be alone with his dark thoughts.
Lynette gives Abby a nod as she pushes up from the table. "Gentlemanly of you, thank you," she says to Nick before she moves to Abby's side. "So this little girl…"
An uplifting story would be good about now. Preferably without any corpses involved.