Cookies and Liquor


daphne_icon.gif melissa_icon.gif

Scene Title Cookies and Liquor
Synopsis Daphne and Melissa manage to bump themselves from 'acquaintances' to 'friends' status as they discuss lifesavers, food, Europe, art, and the nature of the President's underpants.
Date July 15, 2010

Central Park

Late afternoon in Central Park isn't a bad thing. It's starting to cool off…a little bit…and it's not as crowded as it is earlier in the day. It's not empty though. Look, there's a wild Melissa, running in her semi-native environment. Black running pants, black tank top, headphones in to play music, and her rainbow hair pulled into a ponytail that bounces with each step. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

She seems to have been running for a while, face a little damp, strands of hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks, but she's got a nice, steady rhythm going, and she's humming along to whatever music she has playing. And there, running along by her side, is Jerry, tongue hanging out, giving him the look that he's grinning a puppy grin.

Nothing can ruin a jogger's pride in their endurance and stamina and speed like a speedster zooming by. To be fair, most of the joggers on this path that have been passed already don't know that's what that pink and gray blur was — but then, it's just another weird day in Central Park. Daphne is cutting through the park after running some errands (well, okay, thefts) on the Upper East Side and is on her way to the Upper West Side, and the most direct path is right through the park.

She's already passed Melissa when she recognizes her, doing another of her U-turns to zip back, the seeming transparent blur of pink and gray and fleshtone and platinum blonde becoming a solid Daphne.

"Nice hair," she says, running backwards as she faces Melissa.

That blur…Melissa knows that blur! She comes to a stop, but with Daphne's speed, the other blonde stops first. Mel grins, hands settling on her hips. "Thanks. Figured I needed some color in my life. Got your stitches out, I'm guessin'? Looks like you're back to business," she says, and she seems happy about that fact. Nothing like seeing your twice over savior back on her oh so quick feet.

Beside her, Jerry wags his tail happily at the appearance of a new person, and one he's not required to just pass on by. He lets out a happy yip and moves closer to Daphne, sniffing at her like dogs do, then barking again in a clear bid for attention.

The pixyish speedster grins. "Yep. It's good to move again. It was torture not to be able to run," Daphne says, reaching a hand out to let Jerry sniff it, then crouching to pet him and be on his level. "Color's good. I like it," she says, regarding the hair again. For her part, she's not in jogging clothes, but dressed in lighter clothing than usual for the hot summer day — gray cargo shorts and a pink t-shirt, feet in pink and black sneakers.

Standing again, Daphne tilts her head at Melissa. "So how are things? It was pretty crazy the other day, and I know the last time I saw you before that, I was … well, you know. A little self-centered, what with the whole woe-is-me, I'm-so-sick thing and all. I'm not normally like that. And then you saw me all cry-face about the bomb but… you know. I'm normally pretty happy go lucky, just for the record. You and me? We seem to find each other at really bad times. I'm almost thinking that… you know, it's dangerous to stand here. Someone's either gonna try to blow us up or give us Ebola."

Melissa laughs and nods while Jerry licks Daphne's hand happily. "Yeah, I was just wondering if there was a sniper in the bushes or a meteor crashing towards earth or something. But hey, if we can get through this meeting without a disaster, maybe it'll be safe for us to, you know, be friends without the world ending," she says, grinning.

"Glad to see you up and about though. I know how it feels to lose your ability. Not for as long term as you've dealt with, but still. Besides, you do good things running around like you do. I owe you big for saving me twice with it." There's another grin, impish this time. "Do you prefer booze, chocolate or flowers? 'Cause I don't know you well enough for one of my personalized little gifts."

"You owe me? No, no. You did more than your share of helping out, what with the whole playing Doogie Nightengale or whatever, you know? And booze or chocolate, all the way, forget the flowers," Daphne says with a smirk. "Or booze and chocolate. Chocolate martinis maybe?" The speedster pets the dog some more, then nods. "I can run with you if you want. I didn't mean to interrupt your jog. By the way, lemme know if I can ever make stuff up to you for the Den. I've told both Doc and docteur that I owe them a trip to France or wherever else they wanna go. I should extend the invitation to you. I just went to Paris for Bastille Day, actually. Got home this morning."

Lips twitch as Melissa tries not to laugh. "Doogie Nightengale? Think you mean Doogie Houser or Florence Nightengale. And screw the chocolate martinis. You had that godiva liquor? Mmm. God's gift to women!" She shakes her head. "You don't owe me for what I did at the Den though, Daph. It was there to help people. That was its entire purpose, and I came here specifically to run it. Although…I've never been out of the country before…I bet France has some awesome shotglasses," she muses.

She smiles, gives the leash a light tug, then starts jogging again, slow until Daphne's beside her. Habit, of course. No way she could outrun a speedster. "Who's the Doc and who's the docteur though? I'm guessing Francois for the latter, since it's got more of a foreign flavor to it?"

"Godiva liquor? No, I'll have to try that. And if you haven't been out of the country, we're totally going. I can run on water, you know," Daphne says, the smugness that comes with the pride of her ability in her tone. She begins to jog along the other, this pace no more taxing than walking is for most people. "The other doctor that was there sometimes. Doc Brennan, I think his name was? Nice guy." Daphne has no idea how troubled his life was after she saw him last. Nor Melissa's for that matter. She's not Ferry, and knows very few of their secrets.

Melissa's brows lift and she looks impressed. "Seriously? You saying that you ran to France? I mean, I know you're wicked fast, but…to France? Damn girl." She shakes her head, falling silent for a moment, before she nods. "Yeah, Brennan. He is a nice guy. So's Francois. They've both patched me up on more than one occasion." She smiles wryly. "I feel a little bad 'cause all the times I've seen Francois except one, he was patching me up. Sent him some little presents as thank yous, but how the hell do you really thank someone for that sorta thing?"

The speedster shakes her head. "He's helped me more times than he even knows. Francois, that is," she says quietly, her voice soft with affection for the Frenchman. "I don't know either… I wish I did. I wonder if he'd like a Renoir or something…" she muses. "Monet? He seems like an Impressionist type, but maybe not. Hard to guess with people. You, I'd peg for maybe … something quirky. Frida Kahlo maybe, or ooh, Tamara de Lempicka maybe. But, no, Francois probably wouldn't want stolen goods unless it was for a good cause, would he?"

Melissa laughs. "Something quirky? Yeah, guess that works for me. Though I was really hoping to get this painting by Isaac Mendez at this raffle a few weeks back. Didn't get it, but a girl can hope." Another glance to Daphne, and Mel looks highly amused. "Big on stealing stuff, huh? You ever tried stealing something everyone said was impossible to steal? Like, I dunno…the Mona Lisa or the president's tighty whities or something?"

Daphne's step falters for the splittest of seconds. "What! Did Alex tell you?" she says, whirling to look at Melissa with fire flashing through her dark eyes — luckily not aimed at Melissa, but at the man who she had told that secret to merely hours before. "I'm going to kill him, I swear to freakin' Christ on a crutch."

Melissa blinks and stops, head tilting. Then she tries really hard not to smile, and fails miserably. "No one's told me anything about you, hon. I was just following the conversation and where it led my mind to go. You mentioned paintings, then stealing, and I had to wonder." She does grin now. "So what'd you steal? Was it the president's undies?"

"Ew. No. And I bet he does wear tightie whities. He seems that sort, right? Mama's boy underwear. But then, he is a mama's boy, from what I've read," Daphne says, stopping when Melissa does. "I wonder what someone would pay me for his underwear. There's a lot of freaks out in the world." She doesn't know, of course, that Melissa is close to that particular family, if not Nathan himself.

"It's just that I just told someone that … um… well. If you go to the Louvre and are short on time, skip the Mona Lisa room. It's not real. And it sucks, anyway, it's behind glass and it's tiny." She holds up her hands to show the dimensions of the painting. She'd know, after all. "I don't have it though. And I don't know what happened to it, so turning me in won't help you get a reward or anything, you know?"

Amusement shifts to what looks suspiciously close to offense. "I'm not going to turn you in, Daphne. One, you've saved my life. Two, I like having friends, and think we could be friends. Three, the cops have never done anything for me, so why should I help them out? Four, I don't need money that bad. So your secret is safe with me." Melissa shrugs then. "All politicians seem like the tighty whitey type to me. Don't you gotta be to go into something like politics? And I have no idea on the paycheck for 'em, but there's always someone willing to pay for something like that."

Daphne's brows raise at the look on Melissa's face, and she holds up her hands in contrition. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I don't have a lot of friends, you know, so I don't trust a lot of people. I also suck at having a poker face, not being Lady Gaga and all, so I let on more than I normally would have let on there. I told that guy Alex yesterday, being all caught up in the Bastille Day festivities, and I shouldn't have, so I figured he'd told you, and you know." She rambles a little and shakes her head.

"I'm not very good with the friend thing, I should warn you. Like, I tend to cut out when the going gets tough and I will always think you want something from me, even if it's just my fantabulous secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies. If you can handle that I'm suspicious by nature and a total flake and a sometimes-criminal, then you know. Yay friends?" Daphne smiles impishly with brows raised and a hand offered for a handshake.

Melissa shrugs then takes the offered hand. "I don't see most of my friends as much as I'd like to, so no worries. Besides, I can't cook worth a damn, so no hounding you for the secret recipe." There's a pause, then her voice drops. "I've been taking cooking classes. My teachers are about to give up on me because I somehow manage to ruin everything. It's pitiful, really. But the delivery places near my house all love me."

"Oh, like I really cook chocolate chip cookies. I'd die having to wait for them to finish baking. Ten minutes is far too long, and while I could make them fast, I can't make them bake any quicker. I just stop by a bakery on Park Avenue when I want good cookies." Daphne reaches up to brush a bead of sweat off her face and wrinkles her nose. "It's too hot. Let's zip over to your house, you can change, and we can go to an air-conditioned movie theater or something."

Movie theater? Did Mel's new friend just suggest a movie? Melissa beams at Daphne and nods. "That sounds awesome!" She adjusts her steps to start heading back towards her car, since she doubts Daphne can run with a person and dog in hand. "It's so nice to have someone else suggesting movies. They're my passion, and I so rarely get to really share them with anyone else!"

She grins over at the blonde. "We can grab some cookies on the way and sneak 'em in. Cookies and the liquor I told you about. It'll be perfect."

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