Coffee and Changeling


abby_icon.gif mallory_icon.gif miles_icon.gif owen_icon.gif victor_icon.gif

Via Cellphone:


Scene Title Coffee and Changeling
Synopsis Victor tries to pass of fake ID and is invited out for coffee where miles is mistaken for Sylar, and Abby panics… again.
Date December 6, 2008

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.

The night's young and the after-work crowd hasn't really started to pour in and stick like it probably will later. In the middle of a couple of patrons coming to visit their watering hole slips Victor. Just to look at him he looks like he shouldn't be anyplace other than maybe at home doing his homework. A bright smile plays across his face quite without any prompting as he takes a moment to obviously case the bar, and works his way toward an empty barstool that's unclaimed between two separate parties with their backs turned to it. Then he waits patiently, or so it seems (he's fidgetting a lot with his feet), for some bartendery person to notice him and care he's there.

Big mistake. He landed on Abby's end of the bar. She turns, having seen him mosey in and set via the mirror'd back wall and turns around. Brown hair loose, half over her shoulder, tank top and jeans. He can't be old enough, seriously. But then she wasn't either when she got into rapture. But she also looks like she might be old enough. "Welcome to old lucy's, what can I get you?" She drawls, watching him with a smile.

"Hey." the young man says with a smile in turn. "Whiskey sour." He tosses that off casually enough. If he's not old enough he most definitely has at least done this before somewhere. And probably gotten the drinks he ordered. "Hi, I'm Vic." he says immediately, offering a hand over the bar toward the cute young bartender.

Abby cocks her head. She's less perky than she normally is. Things weigh heavy even on her shoulders. She' still perky though. Her hands comes around his and she shakes it, firmly. "I'm Abby, and I need to see your ID. No offense. But you can't be much older than me and i'm not old enough to drink"

"Oh it's cool. Just doing your job." says Vic with that smile, frowning also in throught as he fishes for his wallet in a pants pocket. He eyes Abby while doing this and remarks, "You're allowed to work in a bar and not be old enough to drink?" The ID he puts on the bar is a California driver's license. Victor Childs, looks like him. Date of birth has him as twenty-two years old.

It can be a pain spotting fake IDs from other states.

"Just so long as I don't drink it and there's someone who's legal age and keeping an eye on me" There's a gesture to a blonde at the end of the bar who's doing tricks with the bottles. "California?" Duh, the words are on the ID. "just a sec" And Abby heads for the tricky blonde on the end, waiting the few moments and showing her the ID.

Aw man. Vic rolls his eyes a little. Oh it's a fake, but it IS a good fake. They fake em good in Cali, what with illegal immigration and all. But he tries to play it cool and leans against the bar, waiting. Feet tap tap tap tapping on his barstool. Fidgety.

Victor is eye'd, once, twice, blonde hands abby back the ID with a smirk and sends the brunette back. 'She says it's pretty good, best one she's seen so far, but it'll still only get you a coke or whatever else you want that doesn't have a drop of alcohol in it" There's an apologetic look on Abby's face for Victor as she holds it out to him. "She's from california"

Well at least she's giving it back to him. Vic takes the ID back and says, "Thanks for not being a jerk and keeping it." No hard feelings apparently. "I guess gimme a SoBe. You got those?" Yeah he seems the type doesn't he? "If you don't, I'll take a Monster or something. I don't care."

She's not about to keep his ID< when she walks around with her own in her purse that calls her Stephanie Tarkin. "I think it woulda worked, if she wasn't here. No SoBe, but we do have monster. I thank the heavens many night for that small blessing. Abby crouches down, slides the glass window and grabs one. Tabs popped, glass provided just in case. Then she brings out one for herself. "On me. Kinda my, sorry for the diappointment"

"Hey you're pretty cool for a narc." Vic says, still with the big grin. "What's with the bartender thing? You make okay money at it or is it like a favor for somebody? Or is it your life's work?" The last is said with a light joke tone to it. "Gonna be the best hot bartender in New York?"

Abby has no clue what narc means. Not a clue in the world. "Needed a job, friend gave it to me. GO to work when the sun's still up, come home when the suns still up, no one grabbing my ass less She" There's a gesture to the blonde "Smacks them and trust me, i've seen them get smacked" Abby tilts back her Monster. That's about when she swallows her mouthful, the liquid trying to go down the wrong hole. "P…pardon?" She's looking at VIctor like she just heard something she wasn't sure she heard.

"I hear ya. I hear ya…" says Victor, utterly failing to elaborate on what he said. "Yeah I'm back in town from college. Grew up in Queens and there's this y'know…family emergency. I dunno, I missed it here more than I thought I would. Guess I could stand to look for a job myself. How hard was it for you to get this one?"

"Not very. I kinda stumbled into it. Doing what your doing right now" Abby turns, grabbing a napkin and coughing, get rid off the scratch from the monster making an escape for her lungs instead of stomach. "Family emergency's are never good. They okay now?"

Taking part in his own monster at this point, Vic half-shrugs and says, "Nnnnot really. My sister kinda…it was in the news. You follow the news?" He looks a little uncertain, with that questioning face of someone who wants to be careful not to offend anybody.

'Been alot of bad stuff in the news Victor" ABby answers. Someone butts in, giving victor an annoyed look and slaps his hand on the bar top. "hey lady. My girl wants a rum and coke, make it fast will ya?" abby mods, turning to grab the rum and the lowball. THe guy take the chance to leer over the bar at her ass. His hand twitches and he just looks to victor as if tryign to see if he's appreciating the sight before him too.

Vic blinks and the guy's head suddenly snaps forward and bumps on the bar. "Dude! You all right?!" Vic asks, wide-eyed concern. "I think some dude smacked you and ran out the door…" He points behind the guy. Naturally there is nobody there. But there are plenty of people all around who MIGHT be culprits.

Abby hears the thunk, she's also watched the mirror. She didn't see a guy and her eyes narrow. The guy on the other hand is a little shocked, people look over and he's grabbing his forehead with a groan. He's gonna have a mark, but not enough that abby's going to bother with helping. She just takes him money, turns to the till and gets his change. 'Darn walk by forehead smackers. I'll have the guys at the front keep an eye out for him. I'm very sorry that you got hurt sir" The change is passed over, slid beside the drink. "Victor" Her eyes narrow. "I have to go out for my lunch break. Seeing as you can't drink here, are you hungry? I hate eating alone"

There is this wide-eyed innocence that HAS to be practiced. It looks so contrived on Vic's face that he might as well hang a Guilty sign over his head. And Abby hasn't even accused him or asked him anything! "Uh lemme think about that for a second sure thing." he says in one breath, all grins. "I'll pay, since you were so cool about the drink."

"I'll pay my own, you pay yours. You get to pick the place. Tracy, i'm taking my break!" There's a near collective groan of relief from her end. This means they'll get drinks that aren't still being done by the book. Not that abby's bad she's just… learning "Meet me out front. I'll see you there" The brunette starts to make her way to the backroom. Needs to grab her purse, jacket, scarf.

"You got it." Vic says with perhaps a little more enthusiasm than he ought to be showing. He takes his Monster with him and drains it on the way to the door, taking it in one long drag. By the time Abby makes it outside he's been hanging out for a bit, giving just about anybody that gives him more than a passing glance a "Hey wassup?" A lady on her way by actually stops to ask him directions someplace and he begins to tell her how to get to where she's going in detail. Yeah, he's a local all right.

The brown hair's pulled back in a ponytail now, Abby hangs back a few moments to watch Vitor give the directions before she comes near, hands in pockets. "Your sister get caught in the school?" Continuing the conversation from before the guy's head met the bar.

Waving good bye to the lady, Vic turns and puts hands in his own pockets, walking with Abby. "No, she was found dead in Rhode Island. Somebody killed her." He pauses about that. "I didn't really wanna bring that up. I mean it's not like, good news, heh, y'know?" He laughs a little, nervously. Lame attempt to take some of the sting out of it.

"I'll add her and you to my prayers tonight" She murmurs in reply. "It's… not nice out here anymore these days. Seems like every time I turn around something bad is happening" Abby digs in her bag, bringing out a pack of juicy fruit, passing over a stick to Victor. Satisfied with the lack of people around them, she looks over. "Was you who thunked his head into the table"

"Thanks! I love that stuff." says Vic as he takes the offered gum. He walks along chewing it for a quiet moment before asking, "You're not like, one of those people who hates Evolved, are you? I hope not." Of course that's as good as an admission.

Greenwich Village

In a time that seems long ago, Greenwich Village was known for its bohemian vibe and culture, the supposed origin of the Beat movement, filled with apartment buildings, corner stores, pathways and even trees. There was a mix of upper class and lower, commercialism meeting a rich culture, and practically speaking, it was largely residential.

Now, it's a pale imitation of what it used to be. There is a sense of territory and foreboding, as if the streets aren't entirely safe to walk. It isn't taken care of, trash from past times and present littering the streets, cars that had been caught in the explosion lie like broken shells on the streets nearest the ground zero. Similarly, the buildings that took the brunt of the explosion are left in varying degrees of disarray. Some are entirely unusable, some have missing walls and partial roofs, and all of the abandoned complexes have been looted, home to squatters and poorer refugees.

As one walks through the Village, the damage becomes less and less obvious. There are stores and bars in service, and apartment buildings legitimately owned and run by landlords. People walk the streets a little freer, but like many places in this scarred city… anything can happen. Some of the damage done to buildings aren't all caused by the explosion from the past - bullet holes and bomb debris can be seen in some surfaces, and there is the distinct impression that Greenwich Village runs itself… whether people like it that way or not.

"Far from it" Abby shakes her head to victor's question. "It's not what you have, it's how you use it. I know a few who are gifted" Abby grins to him. "He was staring at my ass, wasn't her, or was he reaching for it?" She pops a piece of gum into her own mouth and the rest of the pack to her pocket. The two are walking down the street, heading for a restaurant somewhere.

"Yeah…" he confesses, actually scuffing one foot on the side of a wall they're walking near as he says it. Vic digs out his wallet again and says, "I mean, I'm registered. Look. Got my card and everything. See?" Sure enough he's registered as a Tier 1. "Wasn't gonna hurt him. He just needed a wakeup smack."

'I don't need to see. Really. it's not like i'm an officer or anything, i'm just a bartender. But, that's good. How's the whole registered thing going for you?" She waves away the card, not even deigning to have a look at it. "So your back, for your family emergency, gonna stay here long?"

Mallory has arrived.

There's a sigh out of Victor and he puts his ID back away, pocketting it. "I dunno. I mean. I guess you won't tell anybody, huh?" he says to Abby with a grin. They're walking down the sidewalk almost alone. "I don't think school's the right fit for me right now. I've been going to UCLA for a year already and this semester's my third and…it's just. I guess I'm a crappy student. You know? I'm thinking of just moving back here and taking a long break. But I don't wanna let my parents down. They don't make a lot of money and it's not like they can pay for me to make up my mind. And I don't have any money either. You know?" You know you know you know?

The city is not going to decorate itself. This is to the good, because it'd leave Owen to find some meaningful way to spend his time. Besides, with him on the 'job', as it were, the city certainly does -seem- to spontaneously manifest new 'body art' at random intervals. And of course it's no fun to hide it.

Owen 'arrives', seeming to stagger back away from a wall down the street, as if he'd just appeared from within a nearby alley, looking up to breathlessly appraise his latest masterpiece. For some reason, his muse told him to adorn the building in front of him with an eight foot high raspberry with lips pulled back in a grimace, baring gritted teeth. One does not question one's muse. It wouldn't be visible in the patch of darkness between two street lights, except for the way the tackiness of the fresh paint glistens, reflecting the nearby light. It occurs to him -now- to look around, subtlety having been shuffled too far down the deck of his priorities in favor of inspiration.

"I don't, actually, but, I can imagine. Somewhat" The pair keep walking down the street. Owen's glanced at and then off the corner of her eye, fresh paint. There's a thought, perhaps some fo the other have been out tagging things again but instead of the expected phoenix, it's a rapberry. With lips. Wow. Art. "hey umm, that's uhh… interesting" Called out to Owen. Abby motions for Victor to glance at the creation. 'Don't let the cops catch you"

Vic sees Owen, all right, but his attention's a little scattered at first so he only notices the artwork once Abby points him in that direction. "Oh. Hey, I like that!" he says brightly. "Dude, you did that?" Like he's impressed. It does offer a convenient excuse to stop running his mouth about his personal problems though, so that's welcome. Just when you think you're in trouble and can't get out, Owen. Thank God.

"Oh, hey Abby," Owen replies, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His grin broadens as he turns his head toward his creation and back to the others, his brows bouncing. "I don't know either," he admits with a shrug, addressing the unspoken wtfery of the image. Victor's compliment further brightens his mood, although not as much as if he'd known he was bailing someone out of awkwardness. Anyway, "It's fine. They move too slow. And anyway, I'd just put a donut on the wall as a diversion." His tone doesn't hold quite enough sarcasm to properly suggest he doesn't believe that'd work, as straight-faced as his delivery is.

"That's very… large," comes Mallory's drawl as steps down the street. "It's a large, angry berry." She draws to a halt where she can get a better look at the picture. "You felt a need to paint gigantic fruit… why?" She's bundled up against the cold, hood up, hands gloved.

"Hey… owen" takes her a minute. "Owen, Victor, Victor, Owen. Victor tried to use a fake ID. Now he's walking me to my lunch break, as a thank you for not keepin ghis fake ID" Lunch. Right, well to her, it's really late at night. "Join us?" Enter Mallory. "Owen's that way. When art strikes…. beware the closest surface" The little gold cross glints at the hollow of her neck in the street light.

"Man it's like people just pop out all over." remarks Vic with a big grin. It doesn't escape his attention that Owen is apparently someone else possessed of super speed. He steps forward, offering a hand to the other guy. "How's it goin? Vic Childs. You guys know each other?" He looks between Abby and Owen, and even includes Mallory in this. "This…some kinda party?"

Despite being well aware that the newest arrival is appraising his artwork, Owen draws himself up a little straighter and puts on a smug face. 'Very large'. Mmhm, that's right. He gets a surprising amount of info from Abby about Victor, his attention pingponging back and forth between them during the momentary distraction, which concludes with him accepting the handshake with a firm nod. "Owen Whitcomb. Yeah, we were in the same youth group." It's not so much falsehood as a placeholder. He looks over to Mallory, poised to back up Abby's explanation with a shrug and a nod. "What she said. The spirit moved me. I think-" he states, examining his handiwork, "I'll name him Bubba."

"I'm here to get my booze on," is Mallory's flat answer to Victor. She jerks her thumb toward Old Lucy's. Abby's given a suspicious look, because Abby is friendly. Friendly people? Suspicious. Highly suspicious. "Bubba the raspberry." One eyebrow goes up. "I don't think that's so much 'art'. I'm not sure what the meaning is besides 'I had a lot of purple paint and too much time on my hands and hooray for fruit'."

Mallory's eyed, for an entirely different reason. No. No way that girls anywhere near old enough to drink. "Hey umm, how about I save you the trouble, and you come with us? Cause sorry, I work there" Abby indicates old Lucy "And if Vic here couldn't pass, your not gonna pass" Abby woudl /barely/ pass. "Tracy's not in the mood to be letting fake ID's pass tonight" Owen gets a nod for the whole youth group excuse.

Vic puts on a sympathetic look for Mallory and says with a shrug, "Yeah, I tried it too and she busted me." He doesn't seem put out by that for some reason. "Anyway look at it!" He gestures at the wall and Owen's work. "You need a meaning? Sometimes you just gotta chill and accept, you know? Not everything means something." He hovers for a moment there and asks Abby in a slightly quieter tone, "How long you got on your lunch?"

"Actually," Owen explains, upon hearing Mallory's assessment of his work, "it says two things. First, it says 'Grr'!" To illustrate, he hunches his shoulders and bares his teeth in imitation of the mural, "and 'I like raspberries." By way of demonstration for this he pulls out a pack of gum from his pocket, sliding out a piece for himself and offering pieces of 'Raspberry Armageddon' or whatever to whomever wants one, accompanied by a quick jump of his eyebrows. He'll leave the fake ID issue alone for now, but he's been keeping abreast of it.

Mallory's nose wrinkles at Vic. "You only thing it's cool because it's huge and on public property. How rebellious." The gum is eyed. Abby is eyed again! She keeps her hands in her pockets. No gum for her. "Join you doing… what? I passed the DARE program. I just say no to drugs."

"probably eating all my time up standing here and admiring Owens handywork. He's got a few spread across town. They don't usually scrub his down quick. Because it's usually good" Mallory's eyed as well, once mroe, before she points to a coffee place. It's close, it's quick, she can grab a prepackaged sandwhich. "Coffee. i'm on my break. Your welcome to join, I was gonna offer to owen" abby pops her gum out in a bubble. She's making a concious effort to not say god this, and god that and bless this. Maybe conrad's words did sink in at some point the other night.

Vic waves Owen's offered gum down and says, "Already got some." He shows off the chewed gum on his tongue, then goes back to chewing, grinning. "C'mon Abby. Don't let anybody hold you up. Let's all go get something." He heads that direction, toward the coffee shop and calls easily over his shoulder, "You can come too, Anger Girl."

Owen fidgets in place, afflicted by a restlessness borne of swelling pride as much as the urge to resume motion. His broad grin owes to the former, though. He conveys wordless thanks to Abby with a crinkling of his eyes above that grin, and then pockets his gum as he sees everybody's good on that front. "Sounds like a party. Let's go!"

Mallory's expression is sour. "No, thanks," she says. "I've got to go wash my hair. You all have fun. Bye-ee!" She wriggles her fingers, turns on her heel, and goes back the way she came. Anger Girl kind of works. Mallory is a damn jerk.

'Take care!" Abby stays still, just log enough to make sure Mallory's not heading into the Old Lucy. "Come on, lets get something to go and walk. I'll probably spend half my time in the back doing inventory" Abby gestures to the coffee place. Part of it becuase she's not wanting to stay in one place herself and she recognizes Owens need to keep moving.

"Man. You guys know her?" Vic asks after Mallory's gone. "Huge chip." he taps his own shoulder. "Anyway seriously. Cool wall-art man." he tells Owen, reaching the door to the coffee shop and holding it open. "Sorry you don't have much time, Abby. When do you get off?"

Seemingly impervious to Mallory's apprehension, Owen just grins as she excuses herself and waves to see her off. "Later!" He falls into step with the others, shoulders comfortably and subtly hunched, hands in his hoodie's pockets. "Hey, maybe her hair was just that funky. It happens sometimes. " Then, "Thanks," he replies to Victor's compliment, ducking through the door since he's holding it open.

"Four AM, then i'm heading home. Hey Owen. Walk me home then? Teo might appreciate it. He's worried about me and my ride's not ready yet" All those spoken as she weaves in and around the door, through to the relative warmth of the coffee place. She wasn't about to ask Victor to walk her home. Stranger.

Vic purses his lips and raises eyebrows as if he just found something well, interesting in a not-good way. He follows the others in, hands in pockets. "Not trying to intrude." he says, testing the waters with that.

Owen seems mildly surprised by the request, but readily agrees with a shrug. "Sure thing." He looks between her and Victor, noting the latter's apprehension. "I'll be headed that way anyhow..So! Hey, this is the place with the giant rice krispie squares, right?"

'Big rice crispie squares" Victor gets a strange look, "Something wrong Vic?" Abby motions to the counter, making her way there, a stomp of feet to warm them and pulls her gloves off, stuffing them in her pockets. "Teo's my roomate. Things in the city are dangerous of late and he worries. Just the way he is"

"No! No no no." Vic shakes his head, hands up to fend off misconceptions that he is feeling like a fifth wheel. Nope. Not at all. Lots and lots of protest for that. "Just saying, I mean, you just caught me trying to get a whiskey sour tonight and now y'know, your lunch is almost over and we've pretty much wasted it all. If I'm stepping on something let me know. Rice crispies." Snatch. He's already out with money, ready to get rice crispies. The marshmallow goodness is like smores with half the mess.

"I dunno about wasted," Owen ventures, rather boldly considering it's not his lunch break. "I've had fun." He grins broadly, which is the only clear indication that he's making a joke.

"Never a waste" Come uttered from the brunette's mouth. "I met someone new, and I did a good deed by giving him something back that others would have kept" look, their turn comes so fast. "Tall, biggest you have, black, drip. I'll take a rice krispie as well please" Abby digs her hand into her purse for her money then looks to Victor. "Since it's not dinner, i'll let you pay for it. If you like"

Owen orders his own noshables, one of the aforementioned krispie squares and a towering cup of something with enough frou-frou words and accoutrements that he stands a good chance of being hours delving through the whipped cream and other frippery to find the coffee underneath it all. While Abby offers Victor reassurances he hangs back, keeping quiet.

"Well I guess that's a good point." says Vic with a grin. "You both seem pretty cool. And you always need new friends. Guys want my cell? Maybe we can hang out sometime." He's already got his rice crispy thing and without a further comment about the matter laid down money to cover Abby's order. The head-jerk he gave the cashier was all he used to say they're together.

Abby cocks her head, studying Victor. "What do you say Owen. Does he warrent my cell phone number?" rice crispie in one hand, wax paper protecting her hand, the coffee in the other.

Owen starts putting his money away with his eyebrows seemingly taking a breather halfway up toward his hairline, his look of surprise having no time to grow stale before he blinks in confusion at Abby-why would he know-? But for Victor's sake he's quick to nod and reply, "Absolutely." He continues to nod as he looks over at Vic, affirming. "Yeah, I'll take it too." He busts out his own cell phone, ready to wait and exchange numbers.

"Awesome." says Vic with a grin. He gets his phone out and recites his number to the other two, adding, "I never remember my stupid number. It's like this phone made me stupid. I used to remember the house number back when we just had land lines, now I have no idea."

Abby doesn't drag out a cell phone. She sets the drink down and the rice crispie on top, pen and notepad whipped out from her back pocket and writes it down. It'll go in her cellphone later. She recites her own out to him, firing off the cell. "Nice to meet you victor. Try not to run into more california bartenders okay?"

And enters the middle-eastern nightmare! Sort of. At least he looks middle-eastern decent, but as he moves up to the counter he seems to be speaking perfectly fine english as he orders a cup of coffee. Beneath his arm is a folded up newspaper as he reaches for his wallet to pay for the caffiene drink. He takes his coffee and heads on over toward the tables to find a seat. Meanwhile, everyone is giving him some strange glances or even rude stares as he makes his way through the coffee shop. He just nods his head and smiles all friendly like at everyone.

With a nod and a short laugh, Vic replies to Abby, "How'll I know they're from California if I see them?" He takes the recited number down into his phone and pockets it. "Hey, thanks a lot. Both of you." He offers a hand to shake to Owen. "I'm gonna get outta here now. But seriously, it's okay if I give you guys a call? Sometimes you just gotta get away, you know?" Like there's something for him to get away from.

Vic doesn't spare much more than a passing glance for the semitic looking guy who shows up. That plus a casual wave in turn to the nod.

"I used to write mine-" Owen glances down at the instep of his sneaker, compares it to what's on his screen, and shrugs, "-still write mine on my shoe so I don't forget it." Clearly he's in the same boat as Vic. The new arrival receives no more or no less attention from him than anyone else, save for the exchange of a smile because, well, most people don't and it seems only fair. He doesn't seem to find that odd either. Then again, he's got one of those enormous blocks of rice krispies in front of him, and quickly gouges out a chunk of that to distend his steady grin with as he chews a huge wad of cereal. Nomnomnom.

'Call, or jsut ask for me at Lucy's. Take care Vic" Abby moves her stuff out of the way of the middle eastern man, a nod and smile of her head to him. Red hairs no longer, it's brown, tied back in a ponytail. "Sorry sir" An apology to the man as he moves by. Then back to Owen. "Hows everyone at the youthgroup? I haven't been by in a while"

Out the door Vic skips (well, not literally) with his own handful of rice crispy bar. He's already taken a huge bite and nearly eaten it all by the time he's out the door. Through the windows of the shop he waves back to his new friends as he strides away into the dark street alone and apparently unworried about that.

The unknown man stops as he sees Abby, he just flat out stops right there in his tracks. He looks at her quite oddly for a moment, tilting his head to the side, he grins a little cheesily,"Do I know you from somewhere? Wait a minute… Short stuff? Oh, you done went and colored your hair didn't you." … Uh?

"I mean, Abigail wasn't it?" He looks around the shop, turning his attention toward Vic as he skips out the door, and then his glance is directed toward Owen momentarily before he looks back to Abby for a response.

Owen throws up a hand to wave, leaning halfway over the counter to follow Vic as he waves from the other side of the window. He settles back down, poised to say something to Abby when the stranger stops and stares at her. The momentary look he's given pauses him in mid-chew, and he raises his hand to tentatively wave. He glances sidelong to Abby, quietly inquiring as to whether things are cool or not.

"Short stuff? I'm sorry sir?" Last person to call her short stuff was a "Black man in the park called me short stuff… and I told him my name but, I don't know…." Abby blinks then looks to Owen. From nice to suddenly a sinking feeling in her stomach. The coffe's dropped, so's the rice crispie and the brunette bolts for the door.

Joe Middle-easterner, otherwise known as Miles, coffee comes shooting out of his nostrils, spraying everywhere. He just kinda stands there for a moment, looking a bit dumbfounded. "Did I say something wrong? Oh shit…" Quickly after a moment's thought, he turns on his heel and jolts out the door after the brunette, screaming,"Hey! Wait! Don't run!"

Oh sure, like that's going to get her to stop when a stranger that she's never met knows her name. "I'm not .. uh.. not going to uh, hurt you! I swear it! Please stop so I can you know, explain! Abigail! Abby! Wait!" … Oh geez. What is he planning to tell her anyways? Sigh.

Two empty coffee cups and some plastic wrap are left on the counter, but the krispie squares never hit the ground. There's a stool missing from the counter, and it clatters to the floor in between Miles and Abby as if to trip the man up with its sudden appearance. The door, recently swung open apparently of its own accord, starts to slowly close, supplying the girl a window of escape. Well, a doorway, but yeah. Owen's apparently still noshing on his krispie treat over by the counter with his back to the action though, feigning ignorance of the whole thing, quietly counting down under his breath around a mouthful of sugary goodness.

Dn't look back don't look back, fuck. God please, she doens't want to go, it's not her time. And then the doors opening and slowly closing. Abby's hand closes on it, swings her out onto the sidewalk. Thank you Owen. She forces the door closed as she exits, trying to grab her a few more moments. For all she knows it's about to be ripped off it's hinges by a mass murdering psycho. Visions of being held like Munin are just dancing through her head. But it would have done her better good if she'd been wearing her winter boots instead of the simple things she wears for work with no grip. One step onto the icy sidewalk and down abby goes with a yelp, head to meet pavement and she closes her eyes, anticipating the carack to come, arms scrabbling to get under her.

Over the stool goes Miles, face-planting the floor unexpectedly as there is a stool infront of him! Apparantly… How the heck did that happen? He must not have been paying attention! Miles slowly gets up, reaching up to rub his face, or rather his body's face. "Ow," he groans, he sighs and moves on toward the door, looking around the shop one more time before he exits, just smiling at the other patrons on his way out to the street. He stops just beyond the door, glancing around until he finally spots Abby lying on the ground.

"Can we just talk? Please? Seriously? If you want to run, fine, then run, but it's pointless, cause I'm not going to chase you…"

Thoughtful customer that he is, Owen ambles over to pick up the stool and slide it back over tot he counter, a bit closer to the door than it was originally placed. He proceeds to slide onto it, keeping the goings-on outside the glass storefront in his peripheral vision as he munches away in apparent beatific contentment, as though ignoring Abby's plight. His left foot settles upon the bottom rung of the stool and his knee bounces restlessly, the only sign of unrest in his otherwise serene countenance.

She's not giving Owen away. Not yet. Miles is near her, Abby's clearing spots from her eyes and surprised that this very moment she's not missing half a brain. "Right, so you can saw my head in half and take my faith, I don't think so. You don't want what I have. They warned me about you. Taking the faces of others, taking their form" All this while the brunette is scrabbling to her feet. A wobble as the blood rushes and she puts a hand to the pane of glass that seperates her and Owen. "Go find someone else to toy with Sylar. Did you kill her? When we left? You killed Victoria didn't you. Like killing helpless people who just want to make the world better" Abby's poised, ready to flee if she has to, needs to.

"Sylar?" Miles tilts his head to the side, giving Abby one of those 'what is she talking about?' looks. He contemplates for a moment how to deal with this situation, pausing just for a second or two to gather his thoughts and then he says rather confidently,"I'm not Sylar. However, speaking of Victoria. I did help her break free of the asylum, which you know, she owes me now. Uh, anyways. The names' Miles, just so we're clear. And yes, I was that officer in the park, just as I am this cabdriver, just as I was the doctor at the hospital, and just as I can be whomever I wish to be." He sighs, tilting his head to the side slightly, giving Abby a funny look momentarily,"You're only the second person that knows.." He looks around for a moment, not really concerned what others on the street think of this, which is probably not much.. yet.

"I don't know a Sylar, but if he's capable of what you say he is, then I definately don't want any part of that. I think." He sighs, placing a hand on his hip as he leans his body weight more to one side,"Look. Can we just talk please? Might help if I clarified some things up for you." Miles smirks a little sheepishly,"So on the topic of Victoria, what did you do to her anyways? Why did she black out and end up in the hospital a week later? huh?"

Back inside the shop, Owen is remaining warily distanced from the exchange outside. His knee bounces against the bottom of the counter, drawing curious looks from his fellow patrons that he responds to with clueless shrugs, as of unaware of the jittery motion of his leg. He's primed to bolt at the slightest provocation, but loath to give himself away for anything short of a life or death emergency.

Other people on the street are looking. An older man, chased after a younge rwoman who looks scared and ready to run. "Owen!" Abby yells for the inside man. Her one hand still on the glass the other held out before her, warding him off. "Leave Victoria alone. Do you understand me. She has nothing you want or need. Just leave her alone!" Abby starts to take a few shakey steps backward then turns on a heel starting to run off, heedful of the ice beneath her feet which makes her stumble a few times. "Leave her alone!" Abby yells behind her.

"Okay." He laughs, shaking his head,"Nevermind then." He sighs, shrugging his shoulders, he turns to head back inside the coffee shop. Well, he did say he wasn't going to chase her. He heads back into the shop like nothing has occured and he moves up to the counter to order a second helping of black caffiene with a cherry on top, or something like that.

Owen's response to Abby's call for help is deceptively lacking in urgency, and there's really no visible indication that he's heard it until one considers that he's not in the shop when Miles walks back inside. Somewhere he picked up a length of rebar and is still carrying it as he slows himself down to run alongside Abby once she's made it a ways down the street. "Who was that?" he asks as he keeps pace with her, seeming to simply fade into view from nowhere. After a split second to consider the issue, he tosses his improvised weapon aside, having been loath to actually use it in the first place.

Abby's not stopping anytime soon, and not heading back to old lucy's. "Sylar. maybe, I dunno. Oh jesus" She doens't stop till she's gone a few blocks and now tucked into an alley with owen. The lean woman is out of breath, poking her head out into the street quickly, to look, fumbling in her purse for her phone number. Fingers clumsily punching in the three digits that are assigned to quick dial Teo. "He was at the park, but he was a big black guy, and he said he was at the hospital, only dear jesus knows what he was then. Is he coming?" She doens't believe him when he says he won't follow. 'Come on come on come on Teo, pick up the phone"

Somewhere far away, albeit not that far away given the geographical limitations of New York City, Teo obeys this command. Click. His voice comes across tinny from electronic conveyance. "Buona notte, bella."

Owen peers around the corner, looking considerably less winded than Abby and just as unruffled by the experience. He regards her with earnest concern though, reaching a hand tentatively to pat her shoulder as he cranes his neck to peek around the corner. "I think he was heading back inside when I left," he offers. "I don't see him, anyway."

'Teo" Abby's out of breath, and it's yet another panicky frantic late at night call. "Sylar, I think. coffee shop near lucy's. It was the balck guy at the park, and then he said he had been at the hospital and then he walked up to me in the coffee shop and started calling me by my name, oh jesus Teo. Owens with me" SAid persons hand on her shoulder does very little to calm the woman. The boogeymna from all the stories they've told her and warned her about looming potentially in the forefront of her mind.

Although the stunned silence feels like it lasts a good length of time in Teo's head, it probably isn't in practical terms. Two seconds at best. "Calm down, ragazza. Owen has your back," he says, first. Then, "Have you lost him? What did you do?" Background noise oscillates in and out of hearing, probably further blurred by the thunder of Abby's own heartbeat.

Miles just stays in the shop, despite the 'stares' he's probably recieving now from others after that little fiasco. He sighs and just continues to smile and act as though nothing has happened. "It's fine, she's just … uh, I just caught her off guard I guess," he tries to explain to a nearby patron of the shop. He chuckles light-heartedly and sips his coffee.
'He didn't follow. we're.. we're a few blocks away, he followed me out the door but he didn't come further. Fuuuuckidon'twannadie" Despite Ownes assurance abby pops her head back out the alley, then once again back in. 'Call elvis?"

"I don't think that was Sylar," Owen muses aloud with his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Wouldn't we be dead if that was Sylar? Isn't that what happens to everybody when Sylar…happens?" To Owen, whose key involvement with Phoenix is to spray paint the city, the actual combative facet of the organization is one big closet full of boogeymen. Fortunately, he's been assured boogeymen are susceptible to being bludgeoned with re-bar, hence his earlier choice of armaments. Clearly he likes to save that notion for a last resort. "He didn't follow us," he repeats. "We're going to be okay. If I have to, I can carry you far away from here." He's not entirely certain of that one either. Another thing he's saving for a last resort.

Fffff. Teo exhales while he thinks. Hears Owen in the distance, Sylar's name bobbing into the zone of his perception though distance obfuscates most of the rest. "It doesn't sound like Sylar. He and his friends have your name, but if they were going to come for you, they wouldn't be stopping for coffee. There's more than one shifter or illusionist in Manhattan. Or hanging around while people ID him." It sounds like it makes sense. Teo thinks so. Being omniscient would be preferable to reasonable intelligence and extrapolation. "Breathe, ragazza. Could you put Owen on the line?"

Abby shoves her phone twoards Owen, waiting for the speedster to take the phone. 'Teo" Her voice still high and scared. Now it's her turn to be antsy, the brunette playing whac a mole, popping her head out incessantly.

Owen reaches for the phone, looking puzzled even as he shrugs to indicate consent and puts his ear to the phone. "What's up, Teo? By the way, I don't think it was Sylar. This guy didn't actually try to hurt her. And he didn't kill anyone when I tripped him either. Um-oh, you go ahead." It occurs to him to let Teo speak now, and he clears his throat in a bid to convey his contrite expression where the cell phone is otherwise incapable.

"Buona notte, Owen," Teo greets. Miles away, he also nods his agreement, before remembering. Yeah. "I don't think so either. That's kind of what I was going to get at," he adds, audibly pleased with that information. "Do you think you're fast enough to humiliate this fellow and get to a safe distance before he could hear and kill you?"

Poke her head out. Nothing. Pull back into the alley, a hand to the back of her head, gingerly feeling where she hit the ice. Lump in the morning, she can already feel the swelling. Abby turns again, poking her head back out, watching.

Owen gives this question a good, long thinking over.It takes some doing to wrestle his misgivings into submission so he can find his game face again. Two seconds' silenc later, his eyes are wide when he finally responds, but his heart rate has settled down to normal. "I know I'm fast enough," he assures. "Why? What am I doing?"

The volume of Teo's voice seesaws a little as he moves his phone around. Probably trying to get hands free. "It's an idea. Not very nice," he acknowledges, wryly. "I hear Sylar has a temper on him. We should feel this guy out. I don't know what's going on over there, so I put the question to you. If tripping him on his face was enough, I'd appreciate it if you sat down for a chat. If you're not sure, steal his chair, his pants, hang a toilet seat on his neck or his head in his soup bowl, whatever you need to do. But not before you put Abby somewhere safe. She knows who she can trust." The pause may or may not be construed as leery. "Keep your part discreet. Be ready to run. Make sure you can see his hands."

Nodding along to the voice on the other end of the phone, Owen peeks up from his study of his toes periodically to glance at Abby, offering her an encouraging thumbs-up before he switches hands to hold the phone with the one he'd been warming in his pocket, half-turning toward the corner around which a boogeyman is probably not going to emerge at any second, because the aforementioned 'monster' is probably still having coffee or reading the news or whatever. "I'll go ask him how he's doing," Owen decides aloud, because it's as good as running the idea past Teo without actually asking his opinion. "I have an idea. What do you want me to find out? And should I tell him anything?"

Dryly, "That Abby forgot to take her medication. Your discretion, amico," Teo replies. "You know Hel's three-step program as well as I do. Please tell Abby not to lose this phone until help arrives. Hana can track her. Godspeed."

Owen can't help but snicker as Teo offers him suggestions. "Alright, I've got it. Here she is." He hands the phone back to Abby and says, "He said not to lose this until help arrives. We're covered. I'm gonna go back there and see what's up. If he's Sylar…" Owen -only- says this because he's confident that Miles is not a brain-eating monster, and he fishes a can of spray paint from his backpack, "I pass the torch to you."

December 6th: Lollerskates
December 6th: Not One of Us, Not One of Them
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