Can't Take It Anymore


delia_icon.gif quinn3_icon.gif

Scene Title Can't Take It Anymore
Synopsis The dreams are upsetting in more ways than one.
Date April 6, 2011

Biddy Flannigan's Irish Pub

Ambient lighting blankets the establishment in a soft luminescence, glowing in tones of appealing orange from the front face of the bar and low hanging light fixtures overhead. Old style brick walls given the pub an appealing depth, reflecting the tone of lights in a more amber hue down upon the lengths of the polished, wooden floors. The bar counter of lacquered dark wood stretches along the northern wall, the forefront for shelves of numerous liquors and the substantially sized LCD televisions spaced liberally behind it. The screens flicker with the latest games and news as the labeled spirit bottles wink from lighted shelves with a beckon of their own. Barstools and high tables welcome tipsy patrons to their support, scattered with throughout the barroom with a few wedge into the darker, quieter, and more secretive recesses. Over the bar are a few banners of sports teams, most notably one of English football club Manchester United.

The thick wooden door to the west is fitted with a single neon sign sponsored by one of the brews on tap, glowing in the door's center window to shed its light onto the sidewalk outside and summoning in new customers when the bar is open for business.

It couldn't be put off any longer. Robyn Quinn had put it off long enough, but after her morning, there was no way that was going to go on any longer. She had to find some answers, however she could. And twice now, it had been suggested to her that she speak to someone who might be an expert on dreams.

To: Robin Bristow
From: Robyn Quinn

Hey. Think you can meet me at Biddy Flannigans this afternoon? Around four or five? I have smething I want to talk to you about. Don't worry, it's nothing too bad. — Quinn

Short and sweet, that email had been sent out before she left for work. And now, here she was, at the stylised Irish Pub and sports bar. Not normally a the first place she'd pick for a meeting, but it's about dinner time and she could use a drink, so, whatever. She's waiting patient for the other woman to arrive. Hoping that she can get some insight into recent matters. Hoping, to god, she can find a source… or a way to make it stop.

Receiving the email for Robin Bristow had been something of a surprise to Delia, given the fact that full registration meant she didn't necessarily need the alias anymore. Still, it's useful under some circumstances, not this one. Dressed as she is, for work at the apothecary, Delia's presence seems a little off in conjunction with the rest of the patrons. Long lace sleeves that fit tight over her arms are overlaid with a niceish t-shirt fit for somewhere like Tartarus more than an Irish pub. Still…

When she tromps in through the light drizzle of rain, she combs a finger through her frizzy hair and then tucks it all back into a messy bun. She hasn't seen Robyn yet but the waitress has seen her and guessing she's not old enough to be in the establishment has promptly made her way over to card the young woman. If she'd been carding Robin Bristow, she'd be right. Instead Delia's legal ID is produced, announcing her of legal age and with a small smile of thanks to the server, the redhead heads into the main part to search for Quinn.

She's spotted almost immediately once the search has begun and soon Delia is sliding into a seat across from the DJ and recording star. "Hey," she greets quietly, somewhat in awe of the other woman. "I got your album… It's really good."

Quinn, meanwhile, is dressed in a damp brown hoodie, eyes half lidded as she sits, waiting. A drink is in front of her, something bard in a low rimmed glass. When she hears Delia's voice, she looks up at the other woman and smiles. "I can sign it for you, if you want," she remarks happily. "I'm really glad you liked it. It seems t' be doin' well, I'm really happy about it. You should come by my flat sometime, I'm workin' on new stuff…" She trails off a bit, looking off to the side.

"Thanks for making it out here on such short notice. I wasn't sure you'd be able t' today." Quinn rolls her shoulders a bit, looking like she's waiting for a, well, waiter. "I was kinda hopin' t' talk t' you about… you know." Her hand waves back and forth a bit at that vauge statement, and she sighs. "Dreams. Have you heard any of the rumors and talk goin' around lately?" She doesn't specify through the Ferry, but the tone she speaks with attempts to imply it.

There's a slight shake of Delia's head and she lowers her eyes to the table when the question is asked. "No, I haven't been around, really. It's not— I'm not supposed to come around anymore." Meaning she hasn't heard much of the rumor mill at all. "Can I ask… How's Abby? I went to visit her and I'm worried." And she still has the woman's dog, the missing master has caused a little bit of weight loss in the pooch. Inexperience in dealing with dogs aside from a few dreams and some cuddling of her house mate's dog doesn't leave her with much to work with in the area of getting the dog's appetite back.

"But— with the dreams," she offers a ghost of a smile as she waves the waitress over to take her order. Since the woman is taking a little time to come round to the table it gives the redhead a bit of room to work with. "What sort have you been having? I've talked to a few people— I'm hoping to visit a few more based on what I've heard."

"Yeah, I… heard about that when I was out there last week." Quinn's lips quirk to the side a bit, her head shaking. "I'm sorry t' hear that. I'm hopin' they don't do the same t'Sable an' Delila. It's… crap taht they're moving people out there." But that's not the point at hand, so Quinn waves her dismissively, refocusing ehr attention. "Abby was… in a coma the last time I saw her. I haven't been back since, though. I hope she's okay…"

Clearing her throat, Quinn frowns. "What… sort have you been visiting?" is a question offered in exchange. "I…'ve been having dreams. I'm not the only one. They're shared dreams. And… everyone seems t' think they're… the future. Or somethin' like that." Quinn's expression saddens considerably, her eyes closing. "I… was hopin' t' find out whatever you knew about dreams an'… people who do what you do. Because I'm getting tired of being told I'm doing it wrong."

"I— I'm not sure if they'll do the same to Sable and Delilah… My dad told me not to contact anyone so…" She lifts one shoulder in a shrug and glances toward the waitress, quieting their conversation in order to give her order. The redhead seems to have a fairly healthy appetite, ordering one of the biggest cheeseburgers on the menu along with two sides. Rather than a beer or a highball like Quinn has to wash it down with, she opts for coke. Diet coke.

When the waitress drifts off again, she refocuses on Quinn and taps one finger against the table as she speaks. "I was hoping I could visit in dreams to explain myself better, explain why I couldn't talk on the phone… I didn't know if anyone might be listening, I didn't want to say anything dangerous." Her eyelids slide down halfway and she stares at the tapping finger for a moment before stopping. "Dad sort of blew that for me with the way he ended the conversation though. If anyone was listening, it's better I never talk to anyone from home ever again.

"Anyway— dreams… Yeah I had one, my house mate had two.. I talked to another lady who had one… and my dad apparently had one too." Licking her lips, she hushes and lets loose a long sigh. "Last time I talked to Hokuto, she asked me if I'd heard about memories that don't belong. If she's referring to these… I think they might be from the future."

Hokuto? The name sounds vaguely familiar to Quinn, but it's passed over quickly in favour of hanging her head and sighing. "I've… had several. So has my girlfriend." She quirks her lips again, looking back up at Delia with a frown and a shake of her head. "They can't be the future. Some of the things we've seen, they're just… impossible now." Taking a deep breath, she sips on her drink - the smell of which, alcohol, has surely drifted over to Deilia by now. An order for an appetizer, motzerella sticks, has been place, hoping to receive the food before too long.

"I guess what I want t' know… is if there's any way t' know who's doing it?" She looks hoepful, eyeing Delia. "Or even put a stop to it. I just… I can't take it anymore. I figured if anyone might know, it's you. Thye just kind of happen and it's all… it's wearing on me too much."

"I think— " Delia begins slowly, sounding quite uncertain of the answer herself, "— yes? I might have to meet with some people. I need to talk to Lynette, do you think you could get her to talk to me? I'll do anything she wants to make it happen but she's the only one I know that wasn't a dreamwalker from the last time. It sounds sort of stupid to say it out loud but she's like a beacon or something, I might need her to call the others together."

Reaching out her hand, she places it on top of Quinn's and squeezes gently. "Sorry your dreams weren't happy ones, mine wasn't completely happy either. I'm scared but I think it's another dreamwalker that's doing this… maybe a dreamwalker and a clairvoyant."

"Lynette was one of the people who told me t' talk t' you, Delia. Even after I heard we're not really supposed t' talk t' you." A beat. "Which is dumb, I can talk t; you without talkin' about stuff." Quinn grins a bit, looking a bit relaxed at the comforting motion. "But, I doubt she'll have a problem talkin' t' you. You know, as long as you meet somewhere way away from Staten Island. I just hope anything you're hopin' for her for doesn't rely on her ability…" You know, in case Delia hasn't heard.

That said, Quinn leans forward, elbows propped on the table. "My dreams… have been me shooting people, an' findin' out that the woman I just broke up with an' I are going to raise a poor orphaned girl. An'… that my current girlfriend is going t' marry the woman who broke her heart. So, yeah. I'm not to thrilled." The whole thing is spoken rather dryly, Quinn's head tilting so that she's looking at the ceiling. "I just want t' know why. An' I think if we find out who…"

Chewing on her lip, the dreamwalker nods a little in sympathy. "Well, I told my house mate that I think these dreams might be warnings. Just like last year but on a much bigger scale. If you don't want any of it to happen, we need to find out as much as we can so we can not do the things that lead to it. You know?" She quiets a little and presses her lips together, "All I know is that at some point, I leave Mister Logan because I was back with all of you." Though, she was much older than she is now.

Changing the subject with a sad sort of grimace, she pulls her hand away and tucks it down with the other between her knees. "But Lynette— I wouldn't ask her to meet me there. I have a job now, at the apothecary in Greenwich or I can meet her somewhere else… I'd rather not call or email. Just— because. But it doesn't rely on her ability, the old one." Looking down at the table, Delia swallows hard and leans a little closer. Her voice is lowered to almost a whisper when but her eyes constantly flit their surroundings. "Robyn, there's another message I want to pass along to her. Brian, our Brian… he's in Eltingville. He's not like me and Sable, he can't leave. I want to find a way to help him and a girl named Koshka get out."

"I saw.. you in one of my dreams," Quinn confesses, looking at Delia. "With your father? I've never really talked t' him before, so I'm pretty sure that's who it was. It was a funeral, though." She quirks a bit off an eyebrow at the mention of leaving a Mister Logan. "Kaylee an' I… we're tryin' t' piece t'gether what we can. I'm going t' see her soon, let her know about the most recent dreams. I'd pay her a visit, however you can. She's the one really keeping track of it all. I've heard the talk of warnings from her an' Ygraine, so far."

Sitting up a bit, Quinn whistles for a moment as she collects her thoughts, and then her eyes widen a bit. "Koshka? Brian an' I were the ones who got her t' safety in teh first place. How in the world did she get there? How'd he get there?" She sounds nonplussed, but not angry. "I'll make sure that message gets passed on. An' that Lynette could meet you at the apothecary. I live in Greenwich, you know. You should come by," she remarks, forgetting that she already said something to that effect.

"He said the police put him there but I don't know anything about Koshka. He's missing a finger and he can shoot sparks all from his other ones. I offered to find a way to get him out but he said he wasn't leaving without her." Something that Delia regards as a noble thing to do but not very high on the self preservation scale.

Nodding at the suggestion to visit Kaylee, she laces her fingers together and hunches forward a little more. "I'll find a way to go see her," the way it's said leads one to believe that she might be doing it face to face. "Maybe I can bring my house mate to see her too… I'm not sure if she's allowed to leave Staten, I would assume yes since she lives with Mister Logan and I."

It seems that today, appetizer means meal. Or maybe it took them extra long to make the cheese sticks. Either way, the waitress walks by, setting them down with a note that she'll be right back with Delia's dinner. Oops. That moment is taken for Quinn to place an order for her own burger, before she returns attention to Delia.

"He… as I understand it someone traded he an' Lynette's ability. So he's throwin' around electricity, an' there's… a few Lynettes now. One of 'em's here in town. I'll make sure she knows what's up." She picks up one of the fried cheese stick, taking a bit out of it. Cheese stretches as she pulls away, and she can't help but smile at that. The simple things, sometime.

"Anyway…" she says as she swallows taking a deep breath as the waitress arrives back with a cheeseburger in hand, "why don't you tell me how things are over there? I've been worried, so…" A pause. "An' think about what you want for dessert. Dinner's on me t'night."

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