Business Card Tarot


kendall_icon.gif peyton_icon.gif tamara_icon.gif

Scene Title Business Card Tarot
Synopsis Tamara shows up with unasked-for advice to give Kendall and Peyton. Also, free coffee and chocolate. Having a precog around has its benefits.
Date January 8, 2010

A Branch of the New York Public Library

It's a chilly but not frigid winter's day, and not actually snowing, so Peyton has taken advantage of the relative warmth to get out and head to the library to do some research. She stands in Nonfiction, looking up at a eight-foot high shelf. The book titles here have to do with public documents, legal affairs, and other such boring information that in the past she would never have been interested in. The books piled in her arms bear such titles as "Birthright: The Guide to Search and Reunion for Adoptees, Birthparents, and Adoptive Families" and "Adoptive Reunion: Agony or Ecstasy." She's always worn her heart on her sleeves, never had a poker face, but right now her entire purpose for being in the library is rather clear just at glance at the stack of books.

The former socialite is dressed for chilly weather in jeans, a sweater, and a parka; one foot is in a boot with fuzzy lining and fuzzy pom poms hanging off of it, but the other is in a black walking cast.

Kendall comes to the library a lot, actually, although for the most part he could be found in the Science Fiction/Fantasy sections, nose buried in some book series or other. Today, however, he's in the nonfiction section as well, reading up on some pretty thick volumes that seem to be those journal periodicals for psychology and articles on the human mind and its capabilities. Pretty dry reading, to judge by the glazed eyes.

And then there's Tamara. Who isn't carrying any books around and got tired of looking at the rows and rows of them on the shelves a while back; inasmuch as she holds anything, it's the trailing end of the pine-green scarf draped around her shoulders, flicking the fringed end back and forth in sharp, fidgety motions. The knit sweater beneath it is a lighter, warmer shade of green, although well-worn and on its way to losing shape; and a bit too big for the girl to boot.

Coming around a corner of the stacks, Tamara stops square in the middle of the aisle and peers quizzically at the younger teenager some few feet in front of her. "You're not really reading that," she remarks, with a shake of her head that sends long, loose blond hair back behind her shoulders, however temporarily. "You should find a better book."

Peyton sighs and puts back a book that seems to be aimed more at lawyers than the layperson — and she's barely able to understand some of the laypeople stuff. "Should go back to school and quit being an idiot," she mutters to herself, then turns out of the row to go find a seat and see if the two books she has are worth checking out. Knowing herself, she'll forget to bring them back and then get charged for late fees and eventually a lost book. She hasn't checked anything out of a library since she was forced to in elementary school every other week.

She limps to one of the tables. Sitting down, she opens the book, then glances over as a bit of green catches her eye. She tilts her head. Is that Tamara?

Kendall doesn't exactly scream and leap a few feet in the air in surprise, but he does fumble the book and almost drop it when someone speaks right behind him. Nervous kid, huh… Clasping the book to his chest, he turns around and then blinks at Tamara, looking down the aisle past him and gesturing at himself. You talkin' to me?

The older girl leans one shoulder against the shelves, giving Kendall a pointed look. Lips quirked in a playful smile, she peers over his shoulder, then turns to look behind herself — you see anyone else here? Nope. Well, aside from Peyton back that way but — she's not here here. "It's you or the books," Tamara informs him, "and books don't read well. 'Course, it's not just them that doesn't. I don't know what they'd want with it if they did, but that's not going to get you very far," the seeress concludes, nodding towards the volume in his hands.

The clairvoyant at the table pretends to read while actually listening in on the strange precognitive. Watching through sidelong glances, Peyton also notices the skittish boy that she scared off with talk of her power over at Summer Meadows. Small world. Especially since the only library she's set foot in since high school is in the middle of the ravaged Midtown, and she's not there for the books but the people, the guns, and the plans. She flips through some pages. The first pages of the book are about the person's own search, but that's not immediate enough for her. She flips forward to the chapter titled "First Steps."

"Uh, what?" Kendall asks Tamara, gaze dropping down to the book in apparent confusion. "What they'd want with what?" he doesn't get what she's saying. "Just doing some kind of research, I mean…" he trails off, shrugging a shoulder, then tries to subtly look around for escape routes. In the process, he notices Peyton, and shakes his head.

Tamara's smile softens, gently amiable. "People come to the library for research," she agrees. "Usually. Keep it if you want," she tells him, shoulders lifting in a dismissive shrug; the book, or its absence, doesn't matter much. Then the girl abruptly snags his arm, her grip firm as she pulls Kendall in the direction of Peyton. "Come on, it's polite to at least say hello." Although that's one thing she never yet said! "I have a card for you, too," the seeress adds absently.

"Hi, Tamara," Peyton says, with a smile, blushing a little if she meant her — regarding the hello. "And … um, Keith? Connor? Something with a 'ck' sound," the brunette adds, with a nod to the boy. She's not sure if the card is meant for Kendall or for her, but she figures Tamara will clarify that if neither of them ask. Her eyes flicker from Tamara to the nervous-looking boy and back. "He doesn't have to talk to me if he doesn't want to. He's scared of people like…" Us, is what she means, but she ends with, "me." Her chin lifts just a bit. She's still not used to the prejudice that comes with being different, but compared to the Humanis First, a bit of fear is nothing to withstand.

EEP! He's being dragged over! She grabbed his arm and is dragging him! Protesting feebly, he nevertheless doesn't rip his arm away from her, since that would be kinda rude. "Card? Card for what?" he smiles limply at Peyton. "hi… uh, Kendall."

"Saying 'hi' isn't talking," Tamara corrects, before echoing Peyton's smile as she plants Kendall by the end of the table. She lifts her free hand, the end of the scarf coming with it; shaking the fringe loose from where it had entertwined with her fingers, letting the swathe of dark fabric fall limply back down, she holds up a finger to Kendall. "Just stay put for a minute, 'kay? Nothing'll happen, promise." The sybil pulls what looks like about half a dozen business cards out of a back pocket, fanning them in her hand; each and every one is different. "I need a pen."

Peyton stares at the precog with both bemusement and amusement. "Is this how you tell the future? Tarot cards too oldfashioned or something for you?" she asks, half joking and half serious. She has no idea how it works — and from what she's learned, every power works differently, even with two people who have seemingly the same. Wendy is a font of information on the subject. She reaches into her purple Balenciaga bag and finds a green felt tip pen. "Here," she says, handing it to Tamara. The end of the pen is a bit chewed — Peyton's nervous habit of chewing on her lip apparently extends to writing utensils as well. At least it's not wet.

That done, she glances back at Kendall and smiles politely. "Kendall. Hi. I'm Peyton," she says, offering her hand. If he doesn't think she has Evo-cooties.

Kendall hesitates as he eyes Peyton's hand, then shakes it. "I'm not good at…" conversations? Talking? Life in general? "Er, anyway." There, that's six, kinda seven words. That's talking, right? The business cards are eyed in confusion, although he doesn't run away screaming yet.

"I don't tell it anything," the seeress disagrees, shaking her head. "It wouldn't listen anyway; just does whatever it wanted." Taking the pen from Peyton, she puts all but two of the cards away, leaning over to set one face-down on the table… and to stare intently at the blank surface for a moment, before scribbling on it in green.

Straightening, Tamara eyes Kendall sidelong, grinning faintly. "Yes, you are." She nods just a bit, then holds out the green-inked card for the boy to take. "You should try looking there. I can help you, meet you there, if you want — but if you don't, that's okay, too," the girl concludes with a genial smile.

The eldest of the three chuckles a bit at Tamara's words. If she was intending to tell a joke, it was sort of funny. If she wasn't intending the joke, well, it's almost funnier. "Mack is back, like you said, but you probably knew that," she tells Tamara after the strange seeress gives the card to Kendall. "But he's an asshat. Not sure if your skill tells you that much or not. So I'm not talking to him anymore. Are the rest of them still coming home soon?" She misses Cardinal and is still worried about Claire, Cat, Liz, even Magnes. "I stopped looking. Nothing made any sense." The present can be as confusing as the future if the person looking doesn't know what they're looking at.

Kendall reluctantly takes the card and looks at it, frowning. "Is this an… appointment card? For a bookstore?" tucking the card into his pocket, he turns from one to the other, obviously clueless as to their current conversation. Maybe he should just… start moving away, maybe they won't notice.

"Not exactly," Tamara replies to Kendall. She looks at him for a moment, then smiles again. "I can't not see, but it's okay. You can go, if you want — just don't think you have to. We could all go get coffee — or chocolate," she invites. Libraries, coffee shops, they tend to go hand-in-hand anymore. There's a beat, before the girl grins at him. "I'll even buy."

But business first. "Bide. It's not too much longer — and maybe this will keep you busy meanwhile," Tamara adds, holding out the second business card for Peyton to take. And her green pen with it, but that's no longer an important piece.

Peyton takes the card and the pen, sliding the writing utensil back into her purse but keeping the card to look at for a moment. Her brows rise. "This one in particular? Is there a reason?" she says, tapping the card. She would have randomly picked a name out of the phone book, most likely, but she isn't sure if this isn't much the same, in truth. "Rebecca Nakano," she says, letting her mouth and ears get a feel for the name, as if to see if there's something mystically "fitting" about them. But… nothing. It's just a name. A stranger's name, at that.

Kendall hesitates yet again, weighing consequences. Coffee sounds good, chocolate sounds even better. "Ah…" he rubs the side of his face as he contemplates it. "I guess there'd be no harm in it unless you're one of those people who kidnaps random people and…" what was that sound all of the sudden? It sounded like social skills failing.

Tamara doesn't change posture, but her eyes slide sideways to focus on Peyton, and she offers the young woman a close-lipped, sly smile. "There are always reasons." But she doesn't elaborate a one of them. The girl blinks, gaze shifting to Kendall, and her smile broadens into a cheerful grin. "No, no. I wouldn't have anywhere to put them." Which is true, not true, and probably not terribly reassuring all at the same time. Tamara plucks the book out of his hands and sets it on the table. "You coming, Peyton?"

"Suuure," Peyton says, drawing out the syllable as if uncertain. "So I don't need these, or should I still read them?" she asks, tapping the books. There might be other information that is useful, besides the legal ramifications that a private investigator should be able to suss out for themselves. She stands, wincing just a touch as her weight shifts to the healing bone.

Kendall doesn't look very reassured by Tamara's reply to his statement, and shakes his head. "Where are we going, anyway?" he gropes for his cell phone in his pocket to reassure himself that it's still there. Right then. He flicks it open, but there's no missed calls, so he shuts it again. Why does he even have a cell phone? The world may never know.

Tamara looks back over her shoulder at Peyton, pausing a moment, her expression a thoughtful frown. "That's for you," she replies. "To decide. They don't change the view; the road is what it is. What they are is your perspective, and that makes the view… complicated." She moves a little farther down the way, but not so far that she can't keep the volume down when she replies to Kendall. "…To the coffee shop?" You know, the one just down from the library. That one. "See you there!" Or not, if they change their minds — but otherwise, the sybil's departure will hopefully get them moving.

Listening, Peyton frowns a little at the cryptic words. Apparently, Tamara doesn't make any more sense on a second meeting. She shrugs and leaves the books on the table, following along and skipping the book check out. Once outside, the coffee shop is a just a few minutes of a a walk in chilly weather. "You don't have to buy mine, but you can buy his," she tells the precog. She thinks she has more money than the precog, but who knows. Maybe she just likes clothes that don't fit.

It's a generic little coffee shop, the kind still sprinkled through out the city's blocks even with the proliferation of such competition as Starbucks. The coffee's cheaper, better, and the pastries are actually fresh here.

Kendall is barely old enough for a job, the only money /he/ has is what his stingy parents give him for an allowance. Therefore, an offer of free food and drink brings him trotting along behind the two ladies, hands shoved in his pockets. He's quiet for the most part, listening silently to whatever it is they're discussing.

To Peyton, Tamara simply offers a sidelong glance and a hint of a smirk. "Why don't you pick out a table?" she directs the other two; and then the seeress walks briskly up to the counter, taking advantage of that head start to place her order first. One nonfat cappuccino, one caramel macchiato, two hot chocolates, and a croissant.

She'd said she was buying, and Tamara meant it.

Well, at least that was clear. And her order makes sense, too, Peyton notes. The girl can make sense, so what she says in cryptic riddles must make sense to Tamara, or they're unclear on purpose, she decides. She shrugs. "Help her with the drinks," she instructs Kendall, and heads to the table, happy enough to get off her foot again. Short walks are fine, but she needs to regain some stamina in the healing limb. She picks out a corner table, pulling over an extra chair to rest her black-braced foot on.

Kendall looks shocked down to his toenails. How did she know he likes two drinks, since the macchiato is almost always half delicious whipped cream? When prompted, he lurches forward, although perhaps grabbing the tray would be a bad idea. "How did you know?" he asks Tamara warily. Maybe she's a stalker or something.

Tamara turns towards Kendall and pauses, smiling crookedly at him. "I listen," she replies simply. He doesn't grab the tray, but she does hand it to him regardless, and let him carry it over to the table while the seeress plucks her croissant off and begins worrying it into little flakey bite-size pieces. Along with an inevitable entourage of crumbs, but those aren't her concern. Tamara seems inclined to remain standing as she does this, rather than sliding into a seat at the table; fidgeting, again.

Peyton wasn't worried if she got something she didn't like, but glances down at the drink with a raised brow. "Not sitting? You gotta go?" she asks Tamara. She reaches for the Splenda packets on the table and then stirs them into her coffee, taking a sip. She smiles. "Perfect, of course. One day I'd love to know how it works." If Tamara could explain it in anything but cryptic words. But then she doesn't know that she could explain her own power any better.

Totally a stalker then. Kendall eyes Tamara, then starts slurping the whipped cream and caramel. Mmm, caramel. Mmmm, light and fluffy fat in a can. "How what works?" really, he's asking either of them.

She glances towards the street outside, the two at the table, the street, the table. Chews on another piece of croissant; swallows. "Maybe. Maybe…" Lets her gaze rest on the view out the window, eyes darker than blue. "No, you don't," Tamara disagrees quietly, voice distant and distracted. "But someday I did." A pause, after which she sets the pastry down on the table. "Yes," the seeress states as if there were no other sentences after the maybe; and she walks out the door without a backwards glance. What's up with that?

Well, all the more chocolate for Kendall, then.

Shaking her head to show she doesn't understand, Peyton opens her mouth to ask for clarification. But then the blonde precog has turned and walked away. Peyton sits with her mouth half open then laughs, running a hand over her forehead with a touch of exasperation. "She's something. Never mind. You really don't want to know, I don't think," she tells Kendall, remembering how he reacted when she said she had a power.

This lady's just full of crypticness and all that fun stuff. Shaking his head, Kendall takes the time to sip the remains of his macchiato, watching her leave. "Huh." that's just weird. Absently, Kendall pulls a napkin towards him and starts fiddling with it, maybe attempting one-handed origami?

"Huh, indeed. But … she knows stuff. So, like, I don't know what she gave you, something about a bookstore? Are you looking for a job or something, maybe? I'd follow up on it." For her part, Peyton plans on calling Rebecca Nakano soon.

"Ah, well, I guess I'm looking for a book or two, but you don't have to be psychic to know that." Kendall shrugs his shoulders, clearly downplaying her ability. "She saw me in a library after all, a bookstore's basically the same thing except you get to keep the books."

Peyton chuckles at that. "Nope. Don't have to be psychic at all. Maybe she just owns the bookstore and wants your money," she says, amusing herself with giving him the wrong "scent" to follow so to speak. She puts a lid on her coffee and picks it up. "Well, I'm going to go find out some more about this stuff. You have a good day, okay?" She stands, managing not to wince this time and begins to head for the door. "Good luck with finding your books."

"Yeah, sure. Uh, see you?" Kendall replies when she gets up to leave, for lack of anything else to say. Then he stares into his hot chocolate, having finished the other drink. Now, for the real reason why he got it. He wraps his hands around it, taking in the warmth. Mmmm. And it's tasty, too!

Peyton gives another wave, happy enough to let him be rid of her — since she knows he doesn't like "her kind." She disappears out the door, and hails a taxi to go the short few blocks to her apartment — it's cold and she's broken. She glances around for Tamara, but sees no trace of the strange teenager. Clutching her coffee and her business card, she's at least one step closer to the goal she's set out for herself: to find her birth mother.

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