Cooking And Kids


gillian4_icon.gif shannon_icon.gif

Scene Title Cooking and Kids
Synopsis Gillian meets the newest resident of the Garden, and they find a common interest.
Date September 21, 2010

The Garden

Even if not everyone eats at the same time, Shannon has gotten to be pretty good about fixing dinner around the same time every night, and a meal that's easy to heat up. Food has just been prepared and some people have eaten, Shannon included, and she has made her way back into the kitchen. While she loves cooking, the cleaning up after isn't quite so fun, but it's just part of the whole experience.

She's rolled her sleeves up, her hair pulled back, and Shannon is humming while she stands at the sink, washing the pots that she used to cook the meal still on the table for latecomers.

One of the latecomers staggers in for the evening, clothing dirty from her set of chores. It looks like Gillian helped out in the yard today— but at least she doesn't smell like more than cut grass. She could have been tending to the horses. "I'm done with yard work. Like— completely done. When my stay here is over, I want an apartment with no yard, no grass, nothing. Just— a little balcony that overlooks some crummy street."

While she speaks, the fake red head makes gestures with her hands, as if trying to express more with them. "You're a much better cook than me, though, so I won't try to hip-bump you out of the kitchen just so I don't have to work outside anymore…" A glance down at her arm confirms another fear. She's getting a tan. The ex-goth in her weeps.

The complaints have Shannon glancing over and lifting her brows. "Could always get a house and just pay someone else to do the yard work," she points out. "As for bumping me out of the kitchen, it's a good thing you don't wanna try. I scratch. And pull hair." But then she smiles to lessen the threat.

"Besides, I wouldn't know how to do yard work if my life depended on it, and I am a good cook, so why mess with what works?" she says as she turns back to resume washing, rinsing, drying and repeating. "And you could be dealing with the horses like that one guy who came in here the other night reeking," she points out.

"I don't mind doing laundry, but man made washing machines for a reason," Gillian says, reaching down to a plate on the table to get a mouthful which she can quickly chew and swallow. It's probably not as good as when it was hot, but it being cool means she doesn't need to blow on it before shoving it in her mouth.

"I actually like dealing with the horses— at least a little. Riding them, but not cleaning up after them. That guy you're probably talking about is here's teaching me. Latent 'I want a horsie' that I ignored as a kid, I think." And she's stopped ignoring it now that she's in a place with a horse. "His clothes are ones I don't like having to wash. I usually make him do them."

"I've never had the least desire to ride a horse. And not just because they stink. Like I told the other guy, I refuse to deal with a pet type animal bigger than I am. Or a tool, as he called them. I'll stick to my oven and skillet," Shannon says with a faint smile. The last pot is rinsed and put in the dish drain, before she dries her hand and tugs out a chair to settle into.

"I'm Shannon, by the way. Don't think I've seen you around before. But then, I haven't really socialized much since I showed up."

"I don't consider anything that has a name a tool," Gillian says, taking a break to down a mouthful or two more, still on her feet which isn't the politest way to eat— but with no one else at the table she's likely not worried about manners. "Gillian, I remember hearing your name when you first showed up— though there wasn't much information given besides you name." Some people get secrecy, other people share it all in a day. And then there's people like Gillian, who like secrets, and the unraveling of them, a little too much. "So who's all after you?"

She may like unraveling secrets, but Shannon thrives on them. "That's because I prefer my privacy and the people who helped me get here know that." Not quite the truth, but it'll do. "As for who's after me, entirely too many people. So…here I am. Hiding out. Closer to the country than I ever thought I'd be." So it's not exactly country, but it has horses, so it counts.

All secrets unravel eventually, though some take longer than others. Gillian takes another mouthful, but watches as she chews this time, as if looking for some kind of clue that would be there— it doesn't show up. Not yet. Setting her fork down, she straightens with a nod. "Plenty of reasons to hide these days, with registration crawling up out asses, and government groups barking up every tree or skyscraper. But this isn't where I thought I'd end up, either. You can't even get cellphone reception without walking for an hour."

No cellphones? That wasn't mentioned in the brochure that she didn't get. Shannon looks almost horrified. "No cellphones? Are you serious? Why the hell did I get put here then? Though it explains why I haven't gotten any phone calls," she muses, absently starting to pick at the food on the plates, not really paying attention to what she's eating.

"Well, if you need to be completely off the grid, this is about as far off it as you can get without leaving New York entirely," Gillian says with a laugh, knowing the feeling more than she can admit. "Your cellphone's also likely ran out by now, too. Cause— no electricity." Which— she had to have noticed while cooking. It's not the easiest place to live, but… "If you worry about little dudes in the machine, this is the place to be."

"Yeah, but…still," Shannon mumbles. She will definitely have to make some complaints to a few people. Then she sighs and slumps back in the chair, arms folding over her chest, her expression resigned. "I really hate this. Hiding away. It's never been necessary before. I'm going to go nuts here."

"There's other places you can go to," Gillian offers, though her voice is quiet enough. "Though if someone placed you here specifically, something in your situation may have required extra secrecy— if it was just an immediate danger, thing, maybe you can move into one of the city houses once the heat clears. Just— make sure it ain't in Queens." Cause what she's heard, Queens won't be worth living in soon. Sad, since it had been her homeborough.

Frowning, Shannon looks over at Gillian. "What's wrong with Queens? And I don't know any of the other places like this so I couldn't move to 'em even if I wanted to. They weren't really too forthcoming on a whole lot of information for me anymore than they were for you," she says with a smile that's mostly teeth.

"Well, that's when you ask to get moved and see if they accept it," Gillian says, watching her for a moment and taking what clues she can get from this lack of knowledge. She's not originally Ferry, cause she knows no other safehouses in the city. Maybe she's not from the city at all, but even if she were out of town Ferry, she might have been given knowledge of a few other safehouses. "You know that flash thing they talked about in the news? Where thousands of people dropped in the middle of the day and saw the future? In those visions a bunch of people saw Queens burning. And future stuff like that's hard to avoid. I thought all that was in the newspaper, though."

"Oh, that," Shannon says, waving a hand dismissively, not seeming all that worried. "Sure there are plenty of places that aren't in Queens. But I need permission to move from here to another house? Even though I'm working with you guys now?" she asks, one dark brow arching. If she wasn't originally Ferry, it seems she is now.

"Well, it sometimes takes a bit for them to open up safehouse space," Gillian says, reaching down to poke at her plate, and find a bite she can take once she's done talking. "You don't want to move into a place and then find out you have to sleep on the floor cause they booked too many people. But hey, welcome to the gang. If you really want to move somewhere else, they'll probably work something out for you."

Shannon shrugs a little, continuing to pick at the food despite having already eaten dinner. "No idea if I want to move somewhere else, since I don't know those places. Guess I'll just make it work here until I do end up visiting a few other places. I would like to meet some other people though, besides those staying here."

"You any good with kids?" Gillian has to ask, holding the emptied off fork out as if checking it for hair, or something. "Cause if you are, you can at least meet the kids when they come here to get some home schooling. Most people don't like them, but if you're any good with them— they can always use people to teach them little things. Like cooking." Cooking is a life skill no kid should be without in post-apocolyptia.

"Actually, I'm pretty fond of kids," Shannon says, nodding. "Not sure if I'm good with them, but I like them until they start getting mouthy in their teens. They're cute. And it wouldn't be a hardship to teach them how to cook. Might even be fun." She grins. "How often do they come by? And where do they come from?"

"Then you'll like the younger ones better. Probably'll need to keep Lance away from you. He's pretty mouthy. And he's not even a teenager yet," Gillian says with a soft laugh, thinking on the kids that might be worst. Lance is at the top of the list. Most the teenagers are actually fairly polite. "They come from the Lighthouse. It's not that far." There's a hint of caution in the way she says it. A protective urge. But— someone higher up trusted this woman enough with the secret of the Garden. And the Lighthouse Kids come hand in hand with the Garden. "They visit a few times a week sometimes. I'll make sure some of them come to you for some cooking lessons when they visit. You'll probably like some of them."

"Lance? How old's he? And yeah, I like young kids. Go positively gushy over babies, but since they can't take cooking lessons guess I won't be seeing any of them," Shannon says, sounding a tad disappointed. "But I'm sure I'll like the others." A pause, another bite, then she asks, "Why so hesitant about discussing the Lighthouse? It another safehouse?"

"It's not a safehouse, no," Gillian says, watching the woman with a bit of curiousity. It was the name being recognized that was the hesitation. But it wasn't recognized. "It's an orphanage. You haven't been in New York for a while, have you? It's one of those well-known, things. It's been around for almost two years." Either she's playing dumb, or genuinely didn't know. "All the kids that are staying there are Evolved. Not all manifested, but all testing positive."

Shannon shrugs. "New York's a big city," she answers, not giving a true straight answer. That would involve giving details of her background, and she doesn't seem at all inclined to do that. "Is it safe though, keeping a bunch of evolved kids in one place and having it well known?"

"That's kind of a question that I don't think anyone can really answer," Gillian says, knowing it's one she's asked herself a lot. How safe are the kids there now? How safe were they ever? "The people who run it do their best to keep them safe, and the place has good funding, too. Some of the best in the city, I'm sure. Most people don't dare mess with a property endorsed by the Linderman Group." Who wants mobsters breathing down their neck? "Course I'm not sure how long that'll help keep it safe. But— I know they're safe enough when they're here, at least."

"How? I mean, if something does happen here, it's not like you could call for help since there's no electricity or cell reception," Shannon points out. "Though for their sake, I hope it is safe. I may not have much use for most adults, but kids? No reason for them to get hurt because of something as silly as genetics."

"It's safe cause people don't know about it. And it's hard for people to get here. It's off the grid," Gillian says, looking around. Sure, if someone did find it, it wouldn't be the safest place at all, and all she's doing is making her doubt if it is safe after all. It's the opposite of the Lighthouse. Where anyone in New York could find a bunch of known Evolved kids.

That's thought over for a minute, Shannon finally leaving the food alone. "Okay, yeah, I can get that. It would deter most people. And I'm sure the Lighthouse is safe. I mean, it's not like there are a hell of a lot of people who haven't heard of the Linderman Group. They're not exactly tiny, or worthless or anything."

"Yeah, but I don't think that protection will last long," Gillian says, looking off for a moment. "I used to— I used to help run the Lighthouse, before some bad stuff happened and I had to leave for their sake." Being there just became too dangerous for them, and for her… "Anyway, I'm going to take my plate upstairs and eat over a book for a bit. Before all the natural light goes away and I have to risk setting the place on fire to read."

Mention of natural light has Shannon looking towards the window and mmming softly. "The one thing I hate about this place. It almost guarantees an early bedtime," she says with an irritated sigh. "But yeah, enjoy your book and the food. And let me know when the kids are coming over, so I can make sure I have stuff here they can learn to cook with."

"Well, no phones means I don't always know ahead of time," Gillian mentions as she picks up her plate and a glass to drink. "But I'll let you know as soon as I know. And let me know what more you need, so I can arrange for shopping trips, too." The one who uses the supplies has a better idea of how many they need. "Try not to go to bed too early." In the middle of nowhere.

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