Participants:
| Scene Title | Butterfly Kisses |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Isabelle introduces Shaw to Elisabeth. They discuss a number of topics from The Importance of Staying Positive, Magnes and Ruiz working on a Plan(TM), Why Precogs and Telepaths have the shittiest power, Raith is a Ghost, and Why Lynette's Mad. Now with Surprise ending inside the box. |
| Date | December 11, 2011 |
The Hub, Lucky Lady Bar
It's the middle of the evening and the Lucky Lady is packed. Well, there are ten people total in the bar. The dimly lit walls echo the sound of conversation behind had by the patrons.
Among them Isabelle Ashford is happy to be not thinking that much at this moment. About her ability, about Magnes and keeping him alive while here. She was liking Liz and she loved Shaw so she wanted the buddies to meet.
There was also a new batch of moonshine being passed around. It was just as strong as the last one. Isabelle insisted that everyone was crazy and just needed to up their drinking game.
Elisabeth hasn’t met most of the people sitting in the Lucky Lady. And Isabelle’s moonshine is literally notorious. As she slides onto a seat at the ‘bar,’ the blonde is perhaps a little weary but she pushes a smile for Isabelle. “Hey lady,” she murmurs. Now that she knows Izzy’s in the know, she simply knocks on the bar and says, “Don’t suppose you’re still hiding that red back there, are you?”
He’s running late. Not that there’s a real sense of time down underground, but the feeling, the anxiety of having something he was supposed to do and then not doing it, is present in the way Shaw stumbles into the Lucky Lady with a wide-eyed look. He scans the crowded room and shuffles to the bar, seating himself right beside Elisabeth and once there, exhales in a long, relieved sigh. “I’m here,” he announces to the bar’s owner, only realizing he’s sat beside someone after a beat passes. Shaw blinks his dark eyes at the woman blankly, but doesn’t immediately speak to her. Stranger danger.
“Just for you lady.” Isabelle says with a grin and she pours a glass of red wine before sliding it over to Liz. Shaw gets a glass of moonshine because duh. Izzy takes in her friends. One new and one old, “Shaw this is my new homegirl Liz. Liz, this is Shaw. He's pretty cool. I think he and Magnes would get along.”
A faux look from the brunette and she whispers, “I told him about Magnes’ flying basically. Superman.” There’s a wink at Shaw before Isabelle is swallowing down some moonshine.
“Pfffffft,” Liz snorts. Superman. Give her a break. She takes the glass of red wine gratefully, and then smiles at Shaw. “Hey there. Nice to meet you, Shaw.” Running a hand over her short hair, the blonde sighs faintly. “Christ… Isabelle… how significant is the threat of catching this bullshit virus if you’re just off the meds a day or two and don’t go out at all? Because… I really, really could use a day or two off of them so I can sleep properly.”
Those dark eyes turn to Isabelle once she’s come over, changing from wary to familiar after a beat. The man wraps long fingers around the glass of moonshine and virtually mantles over it, taking a long breath of its heady scent. “You used it?” he asks Isabelle, a smile playing faintly at his mouth corners. He takes a quick sip out of the glass, licking at his lips with the burn of the liquid trickling down his throat. Shaw’s head bobs, the smile remaining. “You did. I taste it. The lemon.”
Once introduced, Shaw headbobs again peering with interest at the blonde woman for her words. He watches as one might stare at an aquarium, but her words, her tone, cause a rippling of the waters. “Does that make you Batman?” he observes after studying her. “Don’t go outside if you want to still look like the whole pie,” he utters around the mouth of his glass when he brings it up for another drink out of it. “Golden on the outside, red and squishy on the inside. Not red and squishy on the outside.” In a not so subtle stage-whisper to Isabelle, he asks, “Does she know about what happens?” Of course, Elisabeth can hear him even without the need for the need of an audiokinetic ability.
Grinning as she presses her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I did, gave it a extra ooh la la.” Isabelle’s eyes grow wide and her tone becomes all dramatic as she waves a hand to indicate the new batch of moonshine. Lemon Death Edition.
Liz snorting and Shaw’s comment makes her laugh, oh boy! “Ahh.. the guy isn't wrong. Listen I'm cold as a clam without my ability but.. I like my life.” There’s a slight grimace as they speak about the thing that really bothers her. Being negated. “I like you as a whole pie Liz and I'm all about breaking the rules,” All about it indeed. “But not at the expense of my life,” that's only half true.
“Ed keeps himself nice and not negated and beats the odds. He doesn't seem very inclined to make sure all of us do as well.” She doesn't trust him. She just doesn't. Magnes might be a little crazy sometimes but. She trusted him on this.
Elisabeth simply nods slightly. “Yeah… that’s what I figured based on what’s already been said,” she says regretfully. God, she’d like her ability back. For a lot of reasons, not just that one. But she’s not stupid either. “Magnes has been negating about half the time — he can’t when he and Ruiz are working. I hope to God that neither of them come down with it.” She’s desperately worried about that, but without the powers in play, there is no way for them to ever get home. She sips from the glass of wine — the moonshine is totally beyond her today. She had enough of Lemon Death Edition the other night. Her head nearly exploded.
His question gone unanswered, Shaw continues to sidelong glance at the blonde woman and her wine. Perhaps she is Batman. Mysterious, dark. Another sip of Lemon Death goes down, waiting for the slow lemony-fresh burn to fade back to a less cough-inducing level. "I know where I can get NyQuil," he adds after the thoughtful pause, "'So you can rest' medicine." Whether it'll still be good enough to knock someone out remains up in the air, but the offer is there. Dark eyes flick back to Isabelle momentarily, but his gaze turns back and settles more fully on the new woman. "Is your superpower about sleeping? Dreams?"
Isabelle grins between the two and nods her head at Liz, “Brenda and I are starting this thing where we’re really positive. Like really positive. Magnes will get it done. If he gets fucking infected and dies after all this time..?” Isabelle looks serious, “I’ll kill him.” She means it, she’ll kill him again.
“I almost went off my negation shit completely right before you got here. Brenda convinced me being able to throw flames isn't as cool as being alive.”
But what about when you felt alive while using your ability? That should be the case for all of them, it's exhilarating having that power that nobody else does. “Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe without it.” There's a dark look, there was a lot of that kind of sensation in the beginning. Feeling so cold she could she would get hypothermia.
At Shaw, she nods her head. “You always have all the useful stuff. Always finding the shit someone needs in that moment. Are you sure you're not a person who sees the future?” It's a tease of his question about Liz’s ability.
“That’s a fucking horrific power,” Elisabeth opines gravely. “Precogs and telepaths, literally in my opinion, have the shittiest powers EVER. Who wants to know all the nitpicky bullshit people fudge the truth on? And nobody should ever get to see the future.” That is stated very firmly. “Some people think seeing the future means you can change it. It doesn’t — it means that you do shit thinking you can stop it, and then wind up making everything goddamn worse.” Dark mood. She sips the wine in front of her, savoring it.
To Shaw, she says, “No… I’m not Batman. Although that would be kinda cool. That was Raith.” She grins a little. “I manipulate sound. So being negated means instead of feeling all the tiny sounds in the room brushing across my skin, I feel instead like I’m smothering in bubble wrap. Like the air isn’t moving the way it’s supposed to.” She shrugs.
Where Isabelle speaks on being positive, Shaw appears skeptical, cautious on any form of optimism. Still sipping away at his jar of Lemon Death moonshine, he agrees with Brenda's concerns as he looks seriously upon Isabelle. "Don't throw flames, you'll throw up. Then you'll be the wrong kind of pie," remarks the man, his words implying the risk of infection, his brows slanting with worry for his friend.
Shaw shifts nervously in his seat as Elisabeth goes on about precogs and telepaths, on seers and shapers of the future. He sets down the glass of half-drunken moonshine. "It's not our place to play God. I could see really far with my power. But I can't see the future. And who could have seen this coming?" His gaze sweeps between the pair of women, around to the bar and the people. A depressing picture, but it's what they have. At least they are alive.
His ear tilts as Elisabeth goes on, followed by a full on turn of his gaze on the wine glass in her hand. "I don't know Raith," he admits softly, sounding a little guilty with the confession. Was he supposed to know the reference? "Not enough comics around here. What are Magnes and Ruiz working on? What do they need to get done?" he asks with piqued interest. "Do they need help?" Shaw sits up straighter, fighting the dizzy drunkenness of the alcohol coursing through his slim frame.
At the words wrong kind of pie Isabelle grins widely and nods her head. “I agree I agree.” She reaches over to lay a hand on Shaw’s arm and grins a small grin. As the conversation shifts to futures and seeing it and telepaths, “Ah ah, lock em all up I say. Most of those types are complete loons! Can't trust em for shit.” Her words slur as she's getting progressively more drunk. “Show me the future and I'll burn your face off.” She looks to Shaw, “What! I didn't say I was gonna throw flames!” There's a chuckle and she shrugs her shoulders, “Maybe some of them did,” another shrug. Can't be helped now.
There's an eyebrow that lifts at the name Raith. “Who the fuck is that? I mean who the fuck names their kid Raith?” The pyrokinetic cracks out a laugh and drinks more of the Lemon Death Moonshine.
As Shaw asks his questions Isabelle raises an eyebrow and looks over to Liz sharing a look, she waves her hand as if to indicate. ‘He's trustworthy. Tell me if you want girl.’ Izzy might share more information with the man later but, it's Liz’s burden to bear ultimately so she should be the one to say something.
“Raith was just a man I knew — that was his last name. I don’t know if you can help them, Shaw. They’re… working on a way out of here. But you’re not likely to believe me, since it all sounds like it comes from comic book,” Elisabeth admits with a smile. “What is it that you do?”
Because Liz has no clue what anyone can do unless she asks.
Shaw doesn't stay straight up for long, apparently not winning the battle against the moonshine. "We're already all locked up and Looney Tunes, Warner brothers and sisters in the tower," he murmurs in quiet slurring, "hiding from Professor Volken, hoping wolves don't dig too far down rabbit holes. And the black birds see it all, and laugh." He lists off to a side, almost invading Elisabeth's space, but catches himself and pushes back to an upright position. And he's still got ears and eyes open, a sense of odd coherency as he speaks. "Oh… Raith is now a ghost," concludes Shaw naturally, unbothered with the concept. They all have ghosts haunting them in some form or fashion, actual specters or purely made in the mind.
Shaw's eyes go wide at the mention of the Magnes-Ruiz project being a way out. Alarm pierces the man's haze, and he blinks several times. "A-a way out?" he blurts the phrase, but winces and brings a hand to his cheek, fingers dragging over his dark beard. "For who? How…" he wonders aloud, his features showing the mental gears turning over, but sticking on account of the alcohol.
When Liz asks after his own powers, Shaw glances back to her with the briefest of eye contacts and then a shy drop of his gaze. "I… make people go blind. Or deaf. Or numb. Or sometimes, I can make them not mind the smell, or taste the bad food," he says with a tone that sounds more like a confession than any proudly admitted ability. "But I can always taste it." And to that, he makes a face. The rations here aren't exactly the menu of the Four Seasons. The simplest explanation then follows with a sudden thought. "Maybe Magnes and Ruiz can fly us all away, into where the left socks go. It'd be better than here, like a mountain of socks." Shaw curls his mouth back into a dreaming smile. "It'd be soft."
The expression of Isabelle’s face is one of concern for Liz. The timeline hopping woman was indeed surrounded by ghosts. A fact that Izzy didn't take into account enough, just how bizarre this must really be for the two. Isabelle had Brenda, Cardinal and her people. She and the others were just shades of the people that Liz and Magnes knew. The thought causes her to chew on her lip with a contemplative expression. She pats Shaw again at his assessment of Raith being a ghost.
The strange man’s ‘fairytale’ description of their situation down here in The Hub pulls a smile out of the pyrokinetic. She does enjoy his company immensely, “He's a little funny but a real good guy,” she says with a look to Liz. She hopes the other woman has experience dealing with slightly ‘off’ people. Isabelle felt as if those types were more intune with the world anyway. Something she sometimes wish she was. She was used to being one with nature through flames. That connection had been burned through and left her empty and cold.
The moonshine was her medicine for this void inside of her.
“Ah ah I'm not sure about flying babe,” she winks at Shaw and drinks more moonshine. “I think it's more so blackholes and the like.” She waves her hand, maybe she spilled some beans or maybe crazy people like Shaw will take blackholes to be something like a metaphor.
That Raith is a ghost? Doesn’t even faze her. She meets Isabelle’s eyes when the other woman is reassuring her that Shaw’s a good guy and her expression indicates clearly that she’ll be gentle with the man. “Shaw, if they figure out a way to get us to a mountain of socks? I’m going to think I’ve gone to heaven,” Elisabeth simply agrees with a soft smile.
She sips from the glass in front of her and merely runs her hand through her hair, what little there is of it. She still can’t get used to it being so short, after having literally not cut it in two years prior to arriving here. She props her chin on her hand and merely enjoys the company of the other two.
Shaw's smile doesn't linger long. On the point of his being a good guy, Shaw turns back to Isabelle and his expression darkens into stormy turmoil. He opens, then shuts his mouth. Whatever he was going to say doesn't make it past his front teeth, dying at the lips with a hesitance of unformed words. He takes another longer drink of the moonshine, this time more to knock back what darkness threatened to emerge, to burn it with the harshness of gasoline-like alcohol. When he sets the glass back down, coughing fumes. "No, no. I'm not a good guy," he says, a stagger of breath hitching on its way in and out. "I'm not… because I made Lynette mad," he groans, hand lifting up to his temple to rub at it. He peers at the two women, apologetic just in general. Dark eyes that mimic those very qualities of a black hole, dark and empty, lift to Elisabeth, watching her again as she runs her hand through her short hair not quite directly, but enough so that he seems to study her and her mannerisms. Maybe it's a little bit creepy.
There's a blink and Izzy is looking concerned at Liz, “Shaw honey? What do you mean? I'm sure she's fine,” she was tapping one of the hottest pieces of ass in The Hub she better be. The bartender pours him another glass of moonshine, the portion double as she refills hers and then tops off Liz’s glass.
“Tell is what happened.”
The gossip might be a good distraction, the issue of getting out of this timeline was still at hand but sometimes the smaller things were a worthy distraction.
“I think me and Liz can help you out, two strong badass bitches that will kick your goddamn teeth in if you disrespect,” she fist dabs Liz with a wink to Shaw.
Elisabeth smirks faintly and just shakes her head. “What’d you do to make Lynette mad? Not that she seems the calmest person I’ve ever met, but she rarely seems the ANGRY sort when I’ve seen her.” Just suspicious and wary. “Don’t threaten the man, Izzy…. I mean, goddamn.” She grins slightly. “You do realize that people around here are sure all the time that you’re gonna kick their asses, right? I know you had to have cultivated that, but have you ACTUALLY had to kick anyone’s ass?”
Yep, that’s guilt that rides Shaw like a racehorse. He sort of shrinks away like he could get out of immediate striking range, which he can’t without falling off his seat, but he tries nonetheless. “I…” he starts, then stops. He’s not really sure he can explain. But thusly pressed, the details spill out in small drops. “She wanted coffee, so, I asked for a story. And she told a good story. Susan wanted to go to school, but she had to dress up like a guy because that’s how that school was, and met Barry. And she and Barry became good friends, but she fell in love with him. But Barry doesn’t know, and she invites him to dinner with her family later, to meet Susan-as-her-sister-but-really-as-Susan. But, Susan finds out she’s supposed to marry another guy, and when Barry found out, he died. And Susan, she was supposed to get married to the guy, but when she passed Barry’s grave she couldn’t stand it anymore and she stayed at the grave until she died too. But when she died, her and Barry became butterflies and flew away.”
He pauses there for a breath, and then adds, “The butterfly is a metaphor.”
Only there’s no real pause after that to think on said metaphor, as Shaw continues on, “But then she told another story about a princess and peas and marriage, and that was good too. I was going to give her some of the coffee… and one of the posters Dirk was giving out. He said it was important.” Shaw grasps the jar close, huddling it to him and looking down. “She took all the coffee.” Hence, he has none right now. But what he does have, he reaches into the front pocket of his hoodie and extracts a crumpled piece of paper with words written in big letters: It’s Your Civic Duty To Have Children and shows it to the women.
Isabelle muses on this point before nodding to Liz, “You know, you have a point. I haven't had too.. because everyone already thinks I will. EXCEPT.” She slams a palm down on the table. “This bitch who calls herself ‘Barbie’ that Bitch,” she swallows some more moonshine. “She got her face rammed into that,” she points at the end of the bar. “I think she hides somewhere down below even more,” Izzy does a mock wave in the distance. See yaaaa.
As Shaw spins his tale of girls dressed as boys and turning into butterflies when he gets to the metaphor bit, “Clearly,” before allowing him to continue and then her eyebrows are raising as he talks about Dirk that can never be good. And the poster is pulled out and Isabelle just stares. Blue eyes flick from Shaw to the poster and back. “Oh honey tell me you didn't,” she cracks a laugh and handles more moonshine. “You are a kook! Come on sweetie,” Isabelle is pulling Shaw close with a look towards Liz, “We can't be going around telling ladies what to do with their parts right?”
This is said in a husky tone and softly as she presses a finger to Shaw’s lips and then moves in for a deep kiss. Oh yes girl, this happened. Isabelle’s kiss is short but deep and she pulls back with a twinkle in her eyes before sliding back across the bar, “Cuz if you do continue to help Dirk spread his good word. That kiss won't ever happen again,” Izzy cracks up with laughter and gives Liz a look like GIRL.
Oh JESUS! Yeah, she heard about the pamphlet… Christ. And the Izzy kisses Shaw! She facepalms and then sips from her glass of wine, just not saying a damn thing to all of that. He's lucky he didn’t get gutted by someone if he's pushing THAT agenda.
Nope. Not saying a goddamned word.
Oh… so that's what happened to 'Barbie'. Shaw's eyes follow the finger point to the end of the bar, then back. Once his tale ends, fingers scratch at his scruff of a beard as he looks embarrassed, his eyes downcast at the bar top. He's got things to work through himself about those stories, their meanings, and just everything about the poster and what it may imply.
He's still looking at his glass when he's pulled forward, a gulp and a wince twitching his face like he might expect to be slammed on the bartop the way Barbie had been. The space between him and Isabelle's face is very close, enough that she can smell her moonshine on his breath.
The kiss, well, it's definitely unexpected. Likely, from Liz's viewpoint, the man's reaction is downright cartoonish in a way that he tenses, then starts to relax into it, but then it ends far too quickly. She may not have struck him in the way he was anticipating, but Shaw does look stunned by it. Once she lets him go, he sinks back more fully onto his seat, blinking, his breath letting out a sigh and then remembering to breathe again. He lifts a hand to his mouth, fingertips brushing at his lips where Isabelle had kissed him, as if feeling the lingering taste. Heavily alcoholic, with a hint of lemon.
As the woman laughs with Liz, Shaw utters a short, "Okay…" to her ultimatum. And then he slips off his seat. His legs sway under him a moment, then straighten out. "I, um. I'm gonna go… um. Good night, uh, Liz. And thank you, Isabelle." The man lifts a hand to wave to the pair, turns, and then staggers away to exit the bar, leaving the ladies to discuss what they may.
She watches him go, amused blue eyes blinking after the man as Liz takes another long sip of her wine, and then she turns back to Isabelle and proceeds to laugh her ass off. Fist-bump, GRRRL.