alexander2_icon.gif cat_icon.gif colette_icon.gif denisa_icon.gif eileen_icon.gif gillian_icon.gif

helena_icon.gif joseph_icon.gif melissa_icon.gif meredith_icon.gif scott_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Scene Title Corroboration
Synopsis It turns out that most of the Ferry's operatives are more or less on the same page. What to do about an impending viral epidemic and Harve Brennan are the main topics of discussion at the meet, but Colette has a proposition of her own.
Date March 16, 2010

The Garden

Although the cottage is a large building as far as Ferryhouses go and one of the best-maintained on Staten Island, it was erected during a time of low ceilings, small rooms and narrow hallways. In a way, this gives it an intimate kind of charm, which is probably the former owner never opted to renovate and modernize its interior except to add better plumbing and replace the wires in the walls in order to bring the property up to code.

Incidentally, there's no electricity flowing through them right now and hasn't been for several days. The gradually worsening weather has the safehouse's interim operators working by candlelight and the warmth provided by the hearth in the den and kerosene generators elsewhere in the house. Two such heaters have been placed in the attic, the only room spacious enough to comfortably fit all the Ferry operatives who slogged through more than the two feet of snow just to be here. Outside, temperatures have dropped to nearly twenty degrees below zero if one takes windchill into consideration, and Eileen certainly does.

Dressed in a heavy coat made from charcoal wool and leather gloves, she has opted to keep her outer layers on even though the conditions inside are a great deal more tolerable than the inch-thick layer of ice covering the attic's window seems to suggest. She sits at one of the ends of an octagonal table large enough to accommodate two people per side and has not touched the plate of apple-cinnamon muffins laid out on it or the pot of coffee that accompanies it. No styrofoam cups, only the reusable porcelain ones that would otherwise be down in the kitchen cupboards.

She has no written agenda in front of her — it's risky to put such things down on paper — but her stony silence and the open pocket watch cradled in her left hand both suggest that the meeting will formally begin soon whether or not they have everyone who is expected. The blizzard battering New York City has made travel impossible to island for some operatives and too dangerous for others; there are inevitably going to be no-shows this evening.

Melissa shows up, looking as though she's very happy to be inside again. Her blood just isn't thick enough for New York winters yet. She doesn't know Eileen, so she just nods to the woman, and glances around before she finds a couch and plops down in the middle of it. Her coat is kept on for now, though her scarf, gloves and hat are removed. And for once she's not braving the weather outside in a skirt!

The extra layers worn over her leathers having been removed and left downstairs to thaw, Ygraine arrives in the attic with the air of someone who's just engaged in some sort of fun challenge. Spotting and recognising Melissa, she offers the operator a finger-wave - then lets out a distinctly happy noise, and hurries over to help herself to coffee. Looking around to her erstwhile passenger, she cracks a grin at Tony. "Want a mug?"

Even with her fur-lined brown suede winter coat on, the youngest Ferrymen attending the meeting still looks cold. Colette Nichols has been here all day, helping set up and organize for the meeting before the deluge of operatives managed to arrive. Seated at the wood slab table, her shoulders are hunched forward and mitten clad hands cupped at her face. She hates the winter, but loves the snow, it's a frustrating dichotomy to have to handle, especially with a winter being this bad.

Thankfully for her presence, the lighting of the attic is brighter than the candles can afford, a diffuse ambient glow that has drawn light from the candles to more evenly disperse their illumination around the room, vanquishing shadows and giving a warm orange-yellow tint to everything up here, from the weathered wooden floor to the old kerosene lanterns hanging from the exposed beams overhead. Light suffuses the room in a way only Colette can offer; she may not be able to make it warmer but she can certainly brighten things up a bit.

Opposite from her at the table, a far older and far more rugged looking man sits in quiet contemplation. Scott Harkness has been known as a pragmaticist, and ever since the Ferry was founded there have been those moments that he staunchly disagrees with, this being one of them. A centralized meeting of so many networked operators and elements of the network screams security risk to Harkness, but the weathered old soldier seems resigned to the meeting, staring down into the steaming surface of a mug of coffee between his hands; maybe this won't be as disastrous as he thinks.

Helena is wearing winter clothes, but not nearly as many as might be necessary for most people. Once she's inside, she takes off her hat and shrugs out of her coat, spotting Melissa and moving over to join Melissa with a soft, "Hey."

To his credit, said passenger looks only mildly pale. Tony peels off several extra layers, "Hell yeah. Not and wet. Thats the way to go."

Maybe she and Helena, as well as Alexander, arrived here together by snowmobile directly across the river. Given the temperatures, the water may well have been frozen enough for such a happening. Cat is here, regardless, and clad in some measure the same way Gillian and Eileen may recall her sporting on the southern ice shelf. She doesn't come empty-handed, however: with her is an amount of printed material to pass around those gathered so they can read as they will. To wit: the sum of exhibits uncovered from each iteration of Rebel's site, research she's done in connection with it, and the assembled recent writings of Else Kjelstrom. In deference to Scott's request she not bury them under data, she's opted to present things on paper rather than verbally.

The seat she takes, after placing her submission upon the table, is to the other side of Melissa, placing the pain transmitter between them. "Greetings," she offers.

Fashionably late is not something Joseph has ever had a good grasp on in any way except accidentally, and so both he and Meredith had arrived early, bearing muffins — several of which are slightly crisply black around the edges, something the pastor would only attribute to the pyro of the pair. He's seated, currently, in a loose sweater the a white T-shirt just visible beneath it, bare hands clasped in front of him next to a half full cup of once-steaming tea he'd fixed himself prior, looking a little worn from travel and certainly sick of this weather. The last time he was in Tennessee, it had been raining.

Lifting black eyes to those who arrive, those Joseph recognise get a small smile, strangers mostly just getting studied with cautious interest. He looks a sight healthier and whole than his companion, who, now and then, has to endure a small worried glances throughout.

Alexander arrived with Cat. He's in black watchcap, army parka, fatigues. Same ol' same ol', he never changes, does he? It's been a long, long time since he was in this company in his face…..and he's utterly impassive, face about as expressive as a snowman's, as he comes in, shaking the last of the snow from his boots.

Just before the beginning of the meeting, there's some noise on the way up to the attic. A soft voice that rings out in the way children's voices only can. "I want to listen in on the meeting, I promise I'll be quiet. You won't even know I'm there. I'll be like Lance!" It's a familiar voice, to anyone whose spent a lot of time in the Lighthouse, one of the younger kids, a twelve year old with curly dark hair and bright brown eyes, that follows on the heels of someone who finally makes it upstairs.

"Sorry I'm late," Gillian rasps quietly, before turning around and putting hands on the shoulders of the hispanic girl, who oddly isn't wearing anything remotely weather appropriate. In fact, she's dressed as most people would in early spring, rather than this weather. "You were a big help in the weather, but you should go back downstairs with the others." Unlike the girl, Gillian's dressed in… pretty much exactly the same thing she wore in Antarctica. Or at least on the boat on the way. Her actual Antarctica jacket has bullet holes and blood stains, so she didn't keep that.

Insert big disappointed face on the little girl, who then looks around past Gillian and waves to those gathered and then points at Colette. "She's not that much older than me and she gets to be here. Come on. Just let me sit in this one time."

Steadfast and stubborn. The kid certainly has a way of grinding down the competition. "All right," Gillian says finally, before looking back into the room, helplessly, "But only if no one has any problem with you being here, and only if you're quiet." As the girl smiles widely in triumph, she adds on, "And no bragging to the other kids."

The marks left on Meredith from the mess on the Brooklyn Bridge are still pronounced. The large bruise that runs from her temple to her cheek has changed color around the edges. The dark purples and reds of broken capillaries are now faintly ringed with green and yellow. The coat she wears inside is thick and bulky, even more so as her slinged arm is tucked inside, cradled against her chest. The brace that entombs it is too bulky to fit through her sleeve and there was no way in hell she was going out with only half a coat on. The buttons are undone, so it doesn't look like she's about to bolt for the exit at any moment. Seated next to Joseph, the blonde is damn proud of her burnt muffins and will shove them at anyone looking remotely interested in them. And they better eat them because cooking with only one arm isn't what anyone would call easy and she baked for this event, Ferrymembers. This is what happens when she starts rooming with a pastor, she guesses. Baking and showing up early to things. Who would have thought?

Eileen snaps her pocket watch shut. Meetings of this size can go on for an hour or more, and it's already nearing six o'clock at night. Operatives who would rather wait out the storm have been invited by the safehouse's operators to make themselves at home and take advantage of the spare rooms on the second and third floors of the cottage. If they run out of space, the sofa that Melissa, Cat and Helena are seated on could undoubtedly be utilized for the same purpose if necessary, but for those who have other places they need to be tonight, there's a boat piloted by Jensen Raith waiting offshore to take operatives across the water rather than have them risk chartering one of the fishing vessels that regularly make their way back and forth.

"Let's try to keep this short," she says to the room, and maybe it's for more than just Scott's benefit. "There's a lot we have to cover and very little time in which to do it." Green eyes shift from her distorted reflection in the pocket watch's silver case to the blonde-haired weather witch on the sofa. "Helena?"

Melissa studies Colette for a moment, then she mouths, "Are you alright," to her. Those she knows get smiles, as does Cat when she joins Mel on the couch, but it seems to be Helena that she's happiest to see. Gotta love the friendships that jail can create! Alexander gets a little finger wiggle of a wave, then she's looking towards Gillian and the girl curiously. But then Eileen is getting started, and Melissa is looking towards Helena, waiting to hear what she has to say.

Having offered warm (if silent) greetings to Colette and Joseph in particular, and handed a steaming mug of coffee to Tony, Ygraine settles into one of the chairs at the table - trying to keep the creaking of damp leather to a minimum as the meeting gets underway.

Catching Melissa's look over the table, Colette's dark brows come up towards her hairline, mitten-clad fingers rubbing at her nose before lowering to her lap. Wordlessly, she bobs her head into a nod, lips creeping up into a crooked smile at the notion. The crooked wooden cane hooked on the back of her chair says otherwise, as does the stiff back brace worn beneath her jacket, but a bum leg and bruised ribs aside, she's alive which says something for her tenacity.

Scott has been pouring over the files offered to him by Cat, and in the margins he's making notes, pencil scribbling a reminder to himself; "Next time, specify what information overload is." One weathered hand rubes tiredly at his forehead, staring down at hearsay information presented by an unvetted source, and the downturned cast of his lips provide clear understanding to his disappointment in everything he's reading.

It's only when Helena's called to speak that Harkness tips his chin up, puts down the pencil and folds his hands over the documents, an askance look is afforded to Eileen, and then dark brows furrow as the tired old man offers a look to Helena, hoping whatever it is she's going to bring up doesn't have anything to do with what he's been making notations on.

Helena sits up from the couch. "I wanted to let you all know that Cat and I were approached by Michael Spalding and one of his people to ask me to step forward and encourage people to seek out getting the vaccine. It seemed like a good idea at the time, until his partner starting going on about us all agreeing that registering was a good idea, and inferred that anyone who did want the vaccine would have to register." There's a pause. "What I'd like to do is step forward and lay it all out for people. Let them know what their choices are, and the potential consequences - including the observation that we're creating ghettos." There's a pause as she adds, "I'm willing to hear counsel on the matter."

Tony settles himself down, near Mel and Ygraine, cupping the mug of coffee in his hands, as though to try and get some form of life back into them. He observes, quietly, "We might be able to work around the whole, 'Registration papers' thing, with a bit of care, and such. It won't be easy, though." The accent is neutral. Toneless. But just a touch foreign.

Ygraine gets a smile back from Joseph, before the pastor is veering his attention across the table towards where Helena's stationed, listening. He isn't immediately leaping in with questions, although it's clear that the concept of vaccine distribution rubbing shoulders with Registration comes as zero surprise but enough distaste for him to wince a little, lines at his eyes going shadowed until its smoothed out again. Ghettos, though, gets a looked of marked confusion, but he remains quiet for the meantime.

Tony's comment intrigues Al - he turns to blink at him. That hadn't occurred to him, really. Finding a way to game the system. Blunt instruments are blunt, after all.

With no sounds of protest from anyone, the little hispanic girl runs forward and jumps into a chair, where she puts her arms on the table and props her head up on her hands, looking around at people. She seems to have fangirl-style eyes at Helena. While Gillian moves up beside her and takes a seat, the girl opens her mouth as if to say something, and then glances toward the big sister of the Lighthouse instead. One of those hands are uncurled, to hide the girl's lips, so she can mouth, 'I'm a huge fan' at Helena.

It doesn't go unnoticed, from the side glance from the former goth librarian, but it also doesn't break the rules.

"They have an innoculation and they haven't offered it to people who are registered yet? Cause it would be nice. You know, for those of us they already manhandled into doing it."

"If they've a limited amount to go around," Eileen says, slipping her pocket watch back into her coat's silk-lined interior, "then I don't imagine they have much choice in the matter." She removes a cigarette from behind ear, turns it between the fingers of her right hand bound in gauze. "Without testing and registration, there's no way for their doctors to know whether or not the individual they're administering the vaccine to will benefit from it."

She steers the cigarette into the corner of her mouth, lips pursed, and murmurs around its filter to be heard as she reaches into her pocket for a matchbook with which to light it. "We should keep in mind that anyone with the Suresh Linkage Complex is vulnerable. This includes people who haven't manifested or been tested, and with some media outlets citing a survival rate as low as forty percent in some cases, all of New York City will flocking to inoculation centers. If they gave it to everyone without demanding they present registration papers or consent to take a test first, they'll run out of supplies before those of us who need the protection can get it."

Thumbing open the package, she snaps off a single match, strikes it against the designated strip and lowers her eyes to the flame as she cups her free hand around the cigarette, yellow glow seeping sallow through her fingers. "Based on the facts, and let's not identify Rebel as a legitimate source of information just yet, what's Phoenix's assessment of the situation? Are we going to lose more people to sickness or government-run programs?"

Colette's answer gets a smile from Melissa. Helena's comments though, have her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Figures. Just another way to try to force us all to Register so they can shove the ones of us they don't like in a hole," she says, tone filled with utter disgust. "It wouldn't be nice for all of us though. Too many people got forcibly registered and are now hiding so they don't get shoved into Moab II. But hey, if people have no problem getting registered and wanna get the innoculation, more power to 'em. So long as, like Helena said, they know what they're getting into. It should be their choice. If we take away that choice, then we're no better than the government."

Something Eileen says has Melissa's eyes narrowing and moving back to her. It looks like she really wants to say something more, but keeps her mouth shut. For now.

Ygraine turns her head to give Tony a pensive look, then nods slowly. "I'd be wary of having any one person too intimately involved in a repeating deception that requires them to be around every time it occurs", she muses, "but since you can create fakes that last for minutes at a time even in your absence, it might well be possible. Probably something to investigate in more detail before we decide if its feasible in this case, though. And checking out other ways of fooling the system would be great, if we can arrange any."

Glancing around the rest of the table, she shrugs slightly. "At the least, spreading information about the options - and the ramifications of the choices that might be made - sounds like a good idea. But… if it really is a choice between a three-in-five chance of dying horribly, or putting a little trust in the government, it's easy to guess which way most people will go."

There's a rather immediate look of confusion on Colette's face at the commentary, one dark brow raised and lips pursed. "Woah re— really? We're— options?" Tugging off her mittens to lay ont he table, Colette glances side-long at Joseph, brows furrowed as if trying to gauge his reaction, then looks towards Helena with teeth toying at her lower lip. "I— I really— I duuno about that, I mean, Registering?" Colette mumbles in quit tones, head shaking slowly. "We— registration's not really— its not really an option for us, is it?"

"No." Comes the grumbling bear-like response from Harkness, "No it's not. Which means we'll have to get our hands on the vaccine when it comes out in our own way. We have a few contacts down at St. Luke's Hospital and St. John's cathedral where they'll likely open up a vaccination center. The problem is if we lift too much of the vaccine it's going to be noticed, and we don't have any reliable way of replicating it either." Scott offers a somewhat pointed look to Ygraine, not quite the blame game but enough of one that it seems a little sharp. "It's just plain not an option, and frankly I don't care what hand-holding koom-bi-yah ideas that Marine brat had, but I would be darling if you Phoenix kids could not do anything supporting Registration or their vaccination centers. We'll lose more people to apathy for our cause than the virus if we just roll over and concede to this."

"But— " Colette's brows crease, green eyes flicked over to Scott. "But people've gotta' get vaccinated, right? I mean, this is like… serious. I looked at the list of who we have that's infected down at the Den and— we've already had people die."

"And that's a tragedy," Scott admits with a dip of his head, "but a whole lot more of us are going to die if we just bend over and let the government barcode us all. We'll find another way to get the vaccine and find a treatment for the disease without needing to take a knee to Petrelli's facist line. I'm just not going to have any part in that, not a single bit. I'll see if Wireless can hit up the delivery routines of the trucks, and if worse comes to worse, we can try diverting one and having a shipment of the vaccine delivered somewhere on our own turf."

A nervous look crosses Colette's face at that, teeth toying at her lower lip again as she sinks back into her chair, fingers absently toying with the fabric of her mittens in one hand, brows furrowed and head tilted forward. "W— Well, I mean— aren't other people going to need the vaccine too? We can't just— I mean— are you talking about Robin Hooding it? Taking it from the like, drug people place," drug people place, "and passing it out discretely?"

"Possibly, if we can. The CDC handles shipments of any vaccine by region codes, every city is divided up into divisions that have a special production code and medical facilities in each region call in to the CDC to order shipments of the vaccine — provided there's enough. If we can get Wireless to fake a delivery notice and have some shipped off to us, we can disseminate it through the network. It might not be enough for everyone but we're at high risk given our concentration of Evolved. This isn't the flu we're talking about here, after all."

There is a line that Scott Harkness is not willing to cross, and when it comes to Registration, it's that very line itself that had him signing up for the Ferrymen. There's some times in life where people dig their heels in and refuse to budge, and this is one of his.

"Cat likely has the most information as to the statistics…because she's Cat." Helena says with a faint smile before continuing, "I still believe that people should have choices. If we can offer what information we can, people can make their own decision. I refuse to be a mouthpiece for the government, even if it means they yank my amnesty." Helena takes a seat again, looking unsettled.

Being here, Cat hasn't yet heard or seen the news reports of vaccine availability. As Helena concludes her piece, she speaks up. "If there actually is a vaccine. It's possible Sarisa told her people one was coming to get them to approach us in support of registration. Other things I suspect are still unproven, and if we spread it too widely without further evidence, we could actually cause the riot Else wrote about. Evidence provided to me, from medical records of people in hospital with 510, shows a nearly 100 percent link between the disease and the H1N1 shots given at the start of that program. It could be fabrication, yes, but experience has taught me such things are rarely false."

"I'm Registered," Joseph puts in, hands wrapped around his tea, rotating it at a fidget. He nods to Helena, sweeping his gaze around towards Harkness and Colette. "And they're right, we're in the business of givin' people choices, not— constantly defying the government. If people want to give up bein' anonymous for the sake of getting vaccinated safely, if that's what's on the table at all, that's their business, and we should see about helpin' 'em out if they need it. 'course, if they don't and they need it, we should try do what we can for them too. I dunno if forgery's enough, not with the system they got goin'. Though if what Catherine's sayin' is a possibility, we should go in cautious anyhow."

Which is a pastor's hesitant way of advocating stealing, nose wrinkling briefly before he gives a shrug. A muffin is picked up from the centre of the table, but not eaten — dismantled, needing something to do with his hand as he picks at the crispy black edges.

"What I'm concerned about is how we're gonna contain this monster 'til the vaccines are in the works. I hear we got a few holed up somewhere but— " He shakes his head. "That needs to be locked down, doesn't it. If that 'house is still gettin' supplies run to it— I dunno, just tell me it's somewhat self-sustaining. Meredith and I had somethin' of a scare with Else down at the Brick House — a protocol or some such thing should be figured out."

"I think appropriating a little, for those who don't dare register…..well, that's worth doing," Al's drawl is as slow as molasses in January….along with the ginger hair and pale eyes, he's reclaimed that accent. But he looks to Cat. "What're you sayin', there? Those as got the H1N1 came down with this plague? They were -given- it, originally?"

"If one's available, I'll probably get it. I'm already registered so I might as well get something out of it… And I can't really afford to get sick when I have the Lighthouse kids to worry about, but it should be everyone's personal choice," Gillian says, voice quiet and raspy for the moment, while the girl next to her, Denisa has her smile lessened a little bit by all the talk. It's all so serious!

Suddenly dark curls bounce a bit as the youngest in the room leans closer to Gillian and whispers a soft, "I like the idea of Robin Hooding. Brian would make a good band of Merry Men."

There's a snort of a laugh. "Thanks, now I'm picturing a dozen Brians in tights. Shhhhhh."

There's a vehement shake of Meredith's head at the idea of having to register in order to get any sort of help. Instead, she's liking Harkness' idea of what to do. They know who needs it - they should handle the vaccines. While stealing medicine is a little dicey, she's willing to do it to save both herself and other Ferry.

"Yeah, and I ain't," Meredith frowns at Joseph. It's not that she's mad at him, she's mad at the situation. "And I don't plan on it any time soon. If I get sick, I ain't about to put my name down on some government list so I can stay alive. That's ridiculous. If ya wanna Register, Register. But just 'cause some of us aren't, we shouldn't be left to die. We need another option or we're just sayin' Register or die." And anyone who says differently isn't gonna get a muffin.

Shaking out her match, Eileen lifts her eyes to Scott and offers him a shallow smile from across the table that would be more noticeable if it wasn't bruised and curving around a lit cigarette at the same time. "Phoenix uses its media ties to educate the public to the best of its ability while the Ferry takes vaccine acquisition into its own hands," she says, and what flaws there are in this plan can apparently be acknowledged at a later date because she's flicking the spent match into a glass ashtray stuffed with crumpled butts a moment later and no one at the table or on the sofa appears to overtly disagree.

"We aren't here to talk about where it came from," she reminds Alexander in a tone gentler than their personal history dictates she should be using. "Speculation doesn't achieve results and this meet wasn't called for us to entertain conspiracy theories. Even if Catherine's right, it's not the job of this network to investigate. Our responsibility is to the men, women and children under our protection, and as Joseph has already pointed out, that includes both infected Ferry wards and infected Ferry operatives. What are we going to do while we're waiting for those shipments to go out?"

Scott and Colette's words have Melissa suddenly looking thoughtful. "The one problem with stealing the vaccine is that it might deprive other evos of it. It's not robbing from the rich to give to the poor, it's robbing from the poor to give to the poor," she murmurs. She runs a hand through her hair, stretching her legs out. "But then, the government will probably just make more for its people. If faking a delivery notice doesn't work, there are other methods that could be used. Depending on what abilities we all have." Since she's still clueless on most of them.

Mel nods to Joseph. "I've got five people at the Den right now who have it. We had six." Which brings a look of sadness into her eyes. But she quickly pushes it away and looks around for a moment. "If we find out exactly where the vaccine is being held, we can probably get in and get at least some of it. Hell, if it would keep more of us alive, I'd go get it myself if I needed to." Her lips curve into a wry smile. "Anyone got a kevlar vest I can borrow?"

Her attention slides back to Eileen. "Anyone else who ends up sick is more than welcome at the Den. I've got a whole floor for those people, and plenty of food and medicine for them. Though it's just regular over the counter flu meds. A hell of a lot of medical gloves, masks and sanitizer too for that matter. But I'm not sure what else we really can do about it without a vaccine, other than take preventative measures." Though she doesn't sound happy about the lack of something to do.

Ygraine delicately arches one brow in response to Scott's sharp look, but soon finds herself focusing upon Cat and then Joseph in turn - with Melissa receiving a swift, pained glance when she mentions the falling number of residents at the Den. "We, ahhh, we can potentially arrange for a visually - and tactilely - perfect fake of pretty much any ID, if we have an original sample to study and copy. It won't last more than a few minutes, however, and it'd only fool a basic check… but I've seen and felt a beer bottle turned into a federal agent's badge set into a leather wallet. If it's a matter of guards glancing at ID cards and waving people through, it'd be great. If it's a matter of showing it to half a dozen people and having checks run on computer to cross-reference with a database, then it gets a lot less practical. But it's something that could be a real asset in getting limited numbers of people - Robin Hooders or vaccine-receivers - into somewhere, if required."

"Otherwise…." The Briton looks back to Scott. "For acquiring samples or the like: put me in a team with Colette - if she's fit - and give us some suitable support, and you know that we can crack any standard building security, unless the government's begun putting pressure sensors on walls and ceilings. Getting supplies for the Ferry, I'm pretty confident we can manage given the range of talents we have available. And finding and then laying out relevant information more broadly, for those who aren't part of the network… that's surely something we" - one hand waves rather vaguely around the table - "can do better than most. It certainly sounds as if there's something really worth investigating with regard to the origin of this version of the virus, if we can spare anyone from other duties. That'd certainly have an impact on what word we spread, and what we did with any vaccine we acquired."

"You so much as lift a gun to steal that vaccine, Pierce, and I'll throw your ass out of that safehouse we put you in faster than you can say ejector seat." Harkness grouses with a thick, calloused finger pointed at Melissa rather threateningly. "That goes for any of you," he offers a look to Ygraine, then one to Colette since she was mentioned as a co-conspirator. "No one is going to do anything that involves violence or knocking over a shipment or anything risky like that, we're not terrorists and we're not thugs and I refuse to even entertain the idea." Rolling his tongue over his teeth, Scott angles a look towards Eileen, her logic settling his hackles a little.

"If we can, we should move the infected we have to the Den. It's isolated on an island and it's got supply routes that don't go directly through Grand Central. We can have non-evolved make deliveries, and put a ban on any Evolved working at the Den from going anywhere else in the network, to minimize infection. Guy who runs the butcher shop above the Den'll be willing to supply food if I lean on him, he's good people but he won't lift a finger unless asked."

Then, over towards Cat Scott arches a brow and offers a pointed look to her. "Have you— or anyone— tracked down Wireless to ask her about this Rebel character?" Scott asks as the voice of reason, slapping the back of his hand on the documentation in front of him. "I hate to play Devil's Advocate, but I don't think I need to remind any of you that Wireless was nearly killed in combat with a technopath a few months ago, if what I've heard from her is any indication. This Rebel guy could be a government plant, feeding us disinformation and trying to rile us up. If someone can get in touch with her and try to see what she thinks about him, it might help. If anyone's vetting passes my suspicion, it's hers. If she calls him clear and clean, then I'm willing to play ball with this info, but no sooner."

"I— I don't think I'm in shape for all that ninja stuff right now as it is…" Colette offers with a murmured quality, glancing to the cane hooked over the back of her chair before settling green eyes back on Eileen. "I can help move people to and from the safehouses though, if we need to. I just have to take it slow, 'cause of the accident, but I can cover a pretty wide area with my invisibility now, and if we go thorugh the subway tunnels — even if the lines are active on Roosevelt Island — nobody'll see us, since my invisibility fools machines too." There's quirk of one brow up, then a look askance at Scott. "I ah, d— depending on some stuff, I might have some people willing to help get us vaccinations too. But, we— that's sort've on the agenda later."

"Wireless knows of Rebel," Cat states quietly, "she and I spoke of them on more than one occasion. And they have spoken to me of her. I knew of her battle with the unnamed technopath. Rebel told me she was fighting it and they went to her assistance. It was their arrival and aid which saved her, from all I can piece together. They may also have seen to her return into Ferry hands. I do, however, have questions on what happened in that battle. Rebel are changed, they are accused of using methods not like them, and have neither confirmed nor denied the name was hijacked in that action. It's caused problems in a matter I won't take up time covering here, being part of the investigation we didn't convene to discuss. The investigation will continue, anyone who chooses to assist may, and anyone who cares to be kept informed will be." She seems at that point to have aired her piece on the matter, and moves on.

"Actions have been considered, when the Frontliners asked our assistance. We will not advocate registration, but we are likely to soon call for responsible behavior. That anyone who has, or may be coming down with 510, quickly and voluntarily quarantine themselves. The Ferry can also perhaps establish a means by which people not already in its care can reach it for help if needed. Proactively, also, we keep eyes open for signs of people becoming ill and perhaps insist they move into separate quarters. Denial may be an issue, despite the stakes. Persons who will have symptoms short of power loss but refuse to consider the possibility it's 510." Another brief pause, as eyes move around the room and people in it.

"Also proactively, we seek to find biochemists and researchers willing to work with us and create our own stock of vaccine."

As Scott browbeats across the table, Joseph only settles his chin in his hand and waits for it to be over with a look of weariness — clearly not the kind to approve such discussion tactics. He instead latches onto the things that interest him — not stealing, nor conspiracy theories, but network protection. "I'll send word to the Milburn brothers," he says, lifting his head up from his hand again. "There's plenty of non-gifteds that the GCT can spare and those boys are good at supply runnin'. They c'n make sure the Den's covered."

And then he squints across at Cat, at her last point. "Easy as that, huh?" sounds a trifle cynical from the pastor's mouth, before he's obligingly taking a bite of muffin.

We aren't terrorists? We aren't thugs? Copper colored brows climb for Alex's nearly nonexistent hairline. This leopard may have changed his spots once, twice…..but his willingness to do violence is never far from the surface. But he doesn't comment. Merely folds his arms, lets those nearly translucent lids veil his eyes, and broods.

"I'm not going to condone violence, either, though if we do get our hands on vaccines we will have to decide who gets what," Gillian says in a raspy tone, glancing briefly at the kid next to her, as if hinting one of those she thinks should get it first. "My opinion would be, if we get our hands on any at all, that the people with medical training and the caregivers at the Den probably should go first, so that they can care for the infected without worrying quite so much about getting it. Then followed by the younger ones."

The kid sits up a bit at that mention, but doesn't make any protesting sounds, even if she opens her mouth as if to talk. Oh yeah, she's supposed to be quiet. She settles back down on the table, head perched on her hands, and looks around at everyone.

"We'll have to make hard decisions if we even do get it," Gillian continues. "Those of us who can get it without going through the Ferry lines probably should. And by that I mostly mean the ones who already are registered."

It's fortunate that Cat has brought dossiers detailing what information Rebel has to offer, because the turn that their discussion has taken provides a nice segue into the next item on the meeting's agenda. "While we're on the subject," Eileen says, "Harve Brennan is missing, your Rebel has been making threats against his family, and he refuses to turn to the network for help because he's afraid of the possible repercussions we might face for harbouring the Liette girl."

Smoke leaks from her nose and mouth as she plucks the cigarette from her lips, rests her wrist on the edge of the table and adjusts in her seat, slim legs crossing at the knee. "Brennan's a recent addition to the Ferry," she continues. "I don't think he understands the scope of our operation or the risks we take on a daily basis, so he should be forgiven for making the incredibly poor decision to go rogue when we are more than equipped to handle the situation, but we need to send someone out to find him and bring him back. The ward, too. He's supposed to be running the Den with Melissa and with that safehouse being used as a fucking field hospital, this kind of behaviour is frankly unacceptable. He's one of the only licensed doctors we have."

Melissa sends Scott a decidedly unfriendly look, not at the warning, but at the use of her last name. Go figure. "I wasn't planning on using a gun. How crude would that be?" Because clearly causing pain without violence is so much more classy. "And about that Rebel guy, I'd like to know a thing or two about him as well. Rebel seems to fancy himself or herself or whatever a puppeteer, and I'm tired of being the puppet and seeing others being puppets. I may agree with some of what he wants us to do, but that doesn't give him the right to go ordering people around." She doesn't mention Brennan though, or Liette, even when Eileen does. She does, however, look thoughtful, and frowns a little.

Her arms fold over her chest and she nods to Cat. "I know of one or two other evolved who are sick. They're not Ferry, but if we can take care of them at the Den and keep others from getting sick, that'd be awesome. And anyone in the Ferry who isn't evolved, we could use the help. And not just with supply running. Right now it's just four…three kids and two adults, but I don't imagine it'll stay at that small a number for long. I'm taking care of them as much as I can, but even with a mask and gloves it's a risk. Megan's helping too, but she's just one person." She nods to Gillian. "I agree. The people who can help the sick should be first. And the kids…" She looks to Gillian's pint-sized companion. "We've lost enough of them already," she murmurs.

Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers Scott breathes out a tired sigh and nods his head slowly. "I second Ruskin's thoughts to get someone on Brennan, try to pull him and whoever this girl is he's got back in. We can handle the logistics once we know what we're dealing with, but right now the circumstances of why he rabbited and who the girl is doesn't matter, he should be back with us and safe, not hiding in God knows whatever hole he's in, we need his medical expertise."

Considering Ygraine's words after that, Scott's head slowly dips into a nod. "I'd like to think we could trust the Red Cross to be what they say they are. I'm starting to get old enough that I'm jumping at shadows these days, I never know who's going to pull around and turn on us, especially while we're vulnerable like this in the face of the virus."

Quiet while Scott talks, Colette folds her hands on the table and furrows her brows, looking from Ygraine to Scott and back again before finally settling her attention on Eileen. "The only person I know who could find him no matter where he is has the virus now— Molly. I heard from Kaylee today that she's sick too, so— so it cuts down our options a lot…"

"Easy," Cat replies in subdued voice with eyes resting on the pastor. She allows herself to show a slight smile which quickly fades away. "I never said the word easy. I merely speak of possible actions. We can't force the public to behave responsibly and quarantine themselves, but we can certainly ask. Recommend. Suggest. Urge. Even beg."

Her attention turns from Joseph to Eileen, a nod given in her direction. "That would be the action Rebel neither confirmed nor denied when asked. And one which is not like them. I don't know what on in that battle they aided Wireless with, but since then something is different. Regarding Brennan, I have some ideas which I'd like to speak with Melissa about privately after the meeting. And yes, I do intend to ask Wireless if anything happened in that fight to alter the technopaths in question."

With a nod to Cat, Joseph sits back in his seat and lifts his tea to sip from, though glances from Cat and Melissa. Too polite to demand they spill, he simply asks, "Anyone talk to his wife yet? I dunno if Michelle's gone into hiding or what, but I got along with her okay back when she and Harve was lookin' after the detoxers. If he's worried about endangerin' in the network, maybe all he needs is a few words sent his way. I could talk to her myself, though mind, I don't have much of a grasp on the situation. I dunno what danger he's in or much about the girl, but if it's a case of bringin' her in, may as well see why he ain't and go from there."

Another drag from the cigarette, and Eileen's focus shifts from Colette to Joseph at the mention of Michelle. She traces her thumb along the edge of the filter, which has already begun to turn a sickly shade of yellow-brown. Molly is news; Kaylee is not. "Do that," she suggests. "See if you can't convince her to stay here with the children for a few days. We can protect them from Rebel in case he's serious about targeting Brennan's family and it might just lure him out of hiding if we can't find him the traditional way."

As for whatever ideas Cat has that she'd like to share with Melissa in private: "Any particular reasons you'd prefer not to share your thoughts with the rest of us?" she asks the Chesterfield heiress. "I'm curious. Desperately."

Melissa glances at Cat, brows lifting, then she pushes up from the couch, moving around behind it to pace a little. It takes a minute, and some grimacing, but she does speak. Finally. "The girl he's protecting…she needs protecting. For a variety of reasons. And I spoke to Michelle. Yesterday, actually. But here's something to think about. If the guy pulling the strings is this Rebel guy? He knows about us. He told this chick on the street to show me a text message and to tell me that it was from the Ferry," she says, glancing at Scott when she drops that little tidbit. "Hell, I figured he was Ferry to begin with, until Brennan's family got threatened."

"I'd try to get the girl, to be honest, because I don't believe that Brennan has what it takes to protect her by himself. But I don't know that I could right now without resorting to violence and threats, which I really don't wanna do," she says as she continues her pacing. "Maybe pointing out the situation at the Den could help, but honestly? I don't know. Brennan has helped out some there, and some with Summer Meadows in general, but I've only seen him at the Den…twice? I think? But perhaps if we let him know that the girl," she's being very careful not to say Liette's name, "could be protected in the most secure location we have in the city, maybe that would work." Though it's clear she doubts it. Greatly.

Again Melissa stops and looks back to the others. "The point though is…we do not want this girl getting in the wrong hands. And she's been through enough that I'd like to avoid seeing her in the middle of a tug of war. She is painfully naive about the world. More innocent than I've seen anyone over the age of like, three."

Ygraine frowns, mental cogs clearly whirring as the significance of 'the girl' abruptly gets made a little clearer. "Talking anyone into putting people they want to protect with us, at the same time as telling them that they really need to come and help with our sick, might not be easy to manage", she muses, tone rather absent-minded. "But if we _were_ to, say, have volunteers willing to turn to the Red Cross for their care, then a wholly-separate location for that would be wise. And we can certainly emphasise efforts to contain the illness, whatever aid we do or don't seek from outside sources."

"St. John's would be relatively safe, we have enough operatives working at the church's shelters, but the problem with that is crowding. They're going to be up to their eyeballs with people thanks to this weather." Huffing out a sigh, Scott slouches back in his chair, resting his head in one hand and staring down at a pillar candle burning brightly at the center of the table, surrounded by a few smaller tea candles. The flames reflect in his eyes as he considers the room, the sound of the wind battering down on the windows and roof.

"Alright so… we at least need to be ready to move our sick out to the Den, if we're treating that as a field hospital. It's— not what I'd intended it to be for…" which suggests Scott had some sort of plan for it, "but terrain dictates, and we need to adapt to this changing situation. In regards to this…" Scott picks up a scan of the images Colette had made of what Else wrote on her journal, and shakes his head, "everyone should bear in mind she's sporting a fever of 103 right now, so anything she might've written could be the result of a fever hallucination more so than her power."

Colette's brows furrow at that, teeth toying with her lower lip as she looks down at the table. It's a valid enough point, and it's not like she could make heads or tails out of anything she read there either. "We should come up with a plan for the vaccine. Not tonight but like— soon? Once we know when it's gonna' be out, we don't wanna' wait on it, and we're gonna need it. But, I— I don't really know if there's more we can even say about it other than wait and see…" She hates being patient.

"Oh, I know! She should stay with us at the Lighthouse!" the young hispanic girl sits up, looking over at Gillian. "You keep saying she's a kid and— we have a ninja and an army and— " She could have kept going, in her loud voice, when suddenly a hand is placed over her mouth and the dark haired big sis of the Lighthouse leans in closer to her.

"You were told to be quiet." And never mention the ninja. And the guns probably would have been next, considering the scary events of last night. Most people know about the Brian-Army. And the Lighthouse isn't even technically a Ferryhouse, so Gillian just smiles apologetically, including some dimples, and adds to the group, "I agree we should have a ready plan of who gets the vaccine even before we get it. Saves the hard decisions once we actually have it."

"As you said, Eileen, we didn't convene here to discuss investigations in progress and information not yet verified. I thought to spare the gathering that, as it seemed desired, but being asked to explain myself regarding Brennan and the girl, I shall." Cat's tone remains conversational. "We have a number of situations occurring all at once. The rise and spread of 510 virus, the weather being manipulated to be as cold as it is and produce the snow we're suffering, the potential of residential areas being turned into camps, and a number of scientists being in government hands. One of them," she speaks with distaste in her voice and darkness to her eyes, "is called Gregor. Another is called Hector Steel. A third is simply called Luis. A fourth is the man called Doc who was with Norman White. Yet another is a Doctor Zimmerman. If they are all gathered in the same place, with or without Luis, I'm told it would be very. bad. news." Eyes quietly travel the room, she's gauging whether or not eyes are glazing over or rolling as she speaks of all this.

"So a few days ago, I was at Columbia to do some research and on the way back pass through the park. I come across Melissa, one of her charges, Brennan, and the girl in question. I try not to call attention to them, I don't think a person who was in Moab wants to be seen in such a public place by someone who's been in the press as I have recently. But as I pass by, I get a text message from Rebel. It tells me the girl's name and says she has critical information. I thought to stick around and speak with them, observing first for a moment, but the Frontliner Rachel Mills was heading our way and the girl's actions with her SLC ability caused a stir among parents with children. For the group to stay there was not good." Here she pauses to let the gathering absorb what she's relaying.

"Before I could make contact with Melissa and speak of the girl, to see about approaching Brennan, Rebel allegedly decided to threaten him and he went to ground. So the issue now is to make contact with the doctor next time he raises periscope at Grand Central, he has already and seemingly will again, to discuss not just getting him back to the network, but to get the girl and her information to the right place. I am very interested in speaking with her. Does anyone believe I would do her ill?"

Another pause, before she tacks on a final piece. "Given the manipulated weather we're having, Melissa, isn't it also interesting the girl was able to make the air obey her?"

Joseph holds up a hand, fingers splayed in a gesture. "Just— I'll talk to her," he coaxes, laying that hand back down on the tabletop. He means Michelle. "That's all. If it don't work then it don't work, but she and Harve've put their necks on the line for us. For me. You may've only seen 'im at the Den twice, but he spent a good week and a half down in the Terminal. That is, if Harve don't show himself before then anyhow. Once we got the girl, we can— " He glances with uncertainty to Cat. "Figure out all that stuff Catherine just said. I don't think you'll do any harm, Cat."

But on the issue of shipping people out to Roosevelt—

"Brick House shares water across from Meadows, Queens side. I can see it from my room. If anyone needs a gateway, we can sneak a boat on over when it's dark. We're talkin' elbow grease over motors but we've got it figured out," Joseph offers, a glance to Scott but more directed to Melissa.

"We can call another meeting to address what's to be done with Liette once she's back in Ferry custody," Eileen agrees. "No sooner." She taps a sliver of bone white ash into the tray. Mention of ninjas that may or may not be living at the Lighthouse earns the little girl a dark look directed at that end of the table from beneath the Englishwoman's lashes but it does not linger any longer than she feels is necessary to reinforce Gillian's point.

The one she's pinning Colette with next isn't much kinder, and not because the teen has made any missteps. It's been a long, exhausting week for everyone. "You mentioned that you knew some people who might be able to help?"

Melissa stops and she stares at Cat. "You got text messages too?" She curses softly, shaking her head, and for a moment, it looks as though she'll kick something…or accidentally hurt someone. She manages to control her temper though, barely,and shakes her head. "I don't think that the girl would do something like this intentionally. As I said, she's very naive. But the sense I got from her, was that she was little more than a lab rat. So if she is the cause of this weather? I have no doubt she can be persuaded to reverse it."

Mel draws in a deep breath then nods at Joseph. "Not a bad idea. I'll happily work with anyone to get these sick people to the Den. We're resourceful people. We can come up with something, even if one or two of our ideas fizzle out for some reason."

It's with a furrowed brow and a quiet noise at the back of her throat that Colette feels the spotlight on her now. After such serious topics, it feels frivolous — to her, at any rate — to have something so personal get brought up. Swallowing dryly, the teen looks down at her folded hands and opens her mouth to speak, but only a crack of her voice comes out. Cheeks flush, brows furrow and she takes a moment to collect herself before swallowing noisily again and looking over to Eileen. "Three people, um, a— actually… I haven't talked to them about it, but— they all know what I do, and… and none've 'em would ever rat me out or anything, and I just— I— I think they could be a lot of help to us."

Leaning back in his chair, Scott fixes Colette a somewhat serious look, brows furrowed and a slow but patient breath drawn in. It's enough to make Colette flinch, being under the microscope like this. "Um, they— just— try to keep an open mind?" Both of her brows go up to her hairline, and the teen brings her hands down to her lap, still idly plucking at the wool of one mitten between them. "One— one've them's my dad. He's— he used to be a member of SCOUT, and he's a detective and stuff. His— name's Judah Demsky, he's been keeping me an' Tamara a secret from the police for a long time, and— and he's known about what I do even longer. The, um… I— " Colette's brows crease together and she offers a look to Ygraine, then back to Eileen. "The other some've you might, like, know? He's— a federal agent, Felix Ivanov. I— I lived with him for a few months back in 2008, and— he's— he could've reported me as being unregistered like, forever. He knows Teo and a bunch've other people too, I— I think he's… I think he'd work for us pretty well." She's so nervous about this.

"The— ah— the last one?" Colette hunches forward and toys with her lower lip, "is— my sister, Nicole. She works for Daniel Linderman, and she worked with that guy who was gonna' be president, and Cat's mom too. She— she just found out about what I do, and— I just— I want to like, try… try and include her in my life?" There's a worried look spread across her face. "I don't… want to have to keep hiding stuff from her. She'd— she'd never do anything to put us in danger, I promise." Because that makes all her other credentials no big deal, Colette promises.

Though she'd expected to hear about a couple of those - and was trying to look encouraging, as the teen stumbled through her pitch - the third candidate definitely catches Ygraine by surprise. "Linderman?" She darts a glance to Cat. "I… I'd be pretty seriously wary of any ties in that line", she says cautiously. "That organisation scares me. Not least from its apparent ability to suck good people into it. But from personal experience… I can confirm that Ivanov and Demsky seem to be wholly sincere in caring about Colette. I've never dealt with them directly, but I've seen some of the results of their efforts for her. They've got good hearts and they've turned a blind eye for a long time. Whether it'd be fair to them to give them an awful lot more to pretend not to see, I can't say. But if they were up for it, they'd be assets."

She's quiet in listening to the others as they speak on what she relayed and other things, composing her thoughts and words to impart upon the gathering. First up: Liette. "We should think," Cat begins, "about the weather. If it is her, we may not want her to stop it yet. It's being manipulated for a reason, and it's a double-edged sword. It works to limit transportation to and from the city, which does help keep this virus from being carried outside it. While it's true cold winter conditions can in some cases make a better breeding ground for it, the cold and the snow also acts to make people want to stay at home and encounter fewer people. So I have to wonder if whoever's behind it wants to both contain the virus and boost conditions for its spread in the containment area." Her eyes and face adopt a questioning expression, in scanning the others present, and she moves on.

Next topic: Colette's suggestion. "We've worked with Felix Ivanov before, and he does have his moments. While he's a Fed, and to be wary of, his mind is sometimes open and he could do the right thing instead of the FBI thing. Detective Demsky I only met once, at the assassination site, I don't know him well enough to speak about. And your sister, Colette… When we first met, you'd gone missing. Mother sent her to me for information. She was very angry. Time's gone by, she may have calmed down about all this. Next time I saw her," the voice takes on a subdued tone, "was at the assassination site. She found the body. We might be able to connect better, given that link. But… how loyal is she to Daniel Linderman? That's the most important question. We've been discussing registration and opposition to it… I don't think anyone here needs my powers of memory to recall his connection to that law."

"This reminds me of school," the little girl says now that her mouth is finally released and she rests her head down on the table looking at Cat like she's an old school marm who's just gone into crazy talk. "Are all meetings this…" she trails off, glancing cautiously up at Gillian. "…sorry…" It's a very soft tone, and she puts her head down.

Gillian on the other hand, stays quiet.

Eileen's relationship with Felix, no matter how complicated, can be summed up in five simple words. They are: "I won't vouch for Ivanov." To punctuate her point, she snuffs out her cigarette in the ashtray's basin. "He holds grudges that make him impossible to work with, and the Ferry has associates he wouldn't hesitate to turn back over to HomeSec if he knew they were involved in illegal activities. If he's been protecting you and Tamara, it's because he's formed an emotional attachment to you both. Can you say with utmost certainty that he'd do the same for any of us?"

Melissa gives Colette a reassuring smile. "I've met Felix, too. Twice. He's a Fed, yeah, but evolved, and does seem to be against registration and all that. But like I said…I've only met him twice. I don't really know Nicole and never met Judah, so…useless there." She considers, then nods to Cat. "Good point. I don't want to think about how widespread this would be if it was nicer out."

"Felix— He's— " Colette's brows furrow, eyes cast to the side, "he's just stubborn but I think once he sees what we actually do and what we know he'd be willing to try harder to be a good person. He's… he's not as big of a weiner as everyone makes him out to be, and everybody's got grudges, you know? I mean, how many people do we know that work with us that would turn Tavisha," safer than saying Gabriel, "over to the government if they knew who he was and what he does?" Because of course, there's no past-tense talking about him, Colette never knew he died and is blissfully unaware of his resurrection, it's like it never happened to her, coincidentally.

"How many of us have like, totally perfect relationships to anyone in the network, really?" Green eyes dart around the room, then go back towards Eileen. "Maybe once he got to see us he'd have a change of heart, you know? He— I trust him with my life, and there's not a whole lot of people I'd say that about." Of course half that number includes psychopathic murderers, so her judgement may be a bit skewed.

"My— My sister's pretty close to mister Linderman. He's been good to us for a long time, I mean— he helped cure my blindness, and some of the people he works with helped us get Joseph an' me out of captivity from Doctor Sheridan too! I don't think he's necessarily a bad guy, he's just— I mean— he's like a big star right? Publicly evolved and stuff, so he's gotta do some things to keep his image, but then he lets his employees do things to help us, right? I mean— they helped us, and Mister Caliban wants to meet with the Ferry too, he says he wants to help us. Maybe we should like— " Colette wrinkles her nose, "stop looking for problems with people and looking for— "

"No on Nicole and Ivanov." Scott states as he takes a sip of his coffee, interrupting Colette, "too much of a security risk, and if I hear you bring them in anyway I'll revoke your safehouse privileges from here to eternity, you got me?" Both of Scott's brows raise slowly, "Unless someone thinks that's a good idea and outvotes Eileen and I. Right now? It's looking like a no, sorry, kid."

This reminds me of school. Cat's eyes settle on the girl with Gillian and her head tilts as if she might say something to that, or be offended and claim not to be such an entity as she seems to have been tagged for, but… That's fair. She's been a teacher once, to a degree. Professor Cat lets herself think briefly about how tough she could be on poor unsuspecting students for a bit.

This musing causes her not to reply when Scott shoots down Nicole and Felix. Or is it just a move to seem distracted and not have to offend Colette by speaking more of them, one way or another?

All three names are, perhaps surprisingly, ones Joseph is familiar with. Remaining grimly silent, he only lifts his eyes from the table when Scott speaks up his refusal, uncertainty showing in the slightly steely set of Joseph's jaw and the burrow in his brow. He smooths the latter out with his fingers, and gives a shrug. "I vote all three are worth poking around with, though I think Ivanov'll have a conflict of interest on his hands. From what I've seen, he turns a blind eye when he has to— when it's stuff he has investment in. He knew about what we did with Danko."

For instance. Joseph clears his throat. "But it's prob'ly unfair to expect more'n that. I've met Nicole and Demsky, too. I'd vouch for 'em," he says, with a look on over at Harkness. "Any operative we bring in here is a security risk. We got measures to make sure nothin' bad happens when we take these chances."

What Colette brings up is the very reason that Gillian was careful with mentions of Jen-Long. There's so many people who would probably try to put a bullet in the only thing that's left of her sister. She's not even sure Brian wouldn't, at this point…

"I know Ivanov, a little." Saved her life in Antarctica, in fact, but she doesn't say why. "Not sure I would vouch for him, even then, but Linderman helped fund much of the Lighthouse. Perhaps they could be involved in the periphery without threatening safehouses or anyone else."

The kid settles her head down and keeps watching, big brown eyes moving around to each person a bit.

"It could be to our benefit to have a contact within the Linderman Group," Eileen says without rising from her seat at the table. Audible only to her, the tick of her pocket watch inside her woolen pea coat acts as a constant reminder that everyone in the attic is operating on a clock. Outside, a dog is baying to warn the safehouse's operators about the approach of a truck rumbling up the dirt road that leads to the cottage, visible through the attic window as two distant halos of light hovering somewhere in the darkness.

It's nothing to be concerned about, dog barks aside. The Garden is overdue for a supply shipment, including the kerosene needed to replenish the indoor lamps and heaters. "If Kaylee recovers, we should at least consider arranging an interview with Colette's sister to determine whether or not she's trustworthy. You'll consent to that, won't you, Scott?"

Melissa doesn't seem too bothered at having Nicole and Felix shot down. But then, she did say she barely knew them. But then Joseph mentions a name that she's heard a lot about, and she can't help but say, "I've heard that name a lot lately. Who is this Danko guy? Someone got a file on the guy? A picture? Something?" she asks as she perches on an arm of the couch.

"If the telepath's reputable, I have no problem with that. Remember though that Thatcher has a black mark on her record from McRae's safe house. Not a no, but a caveat to be mindful that anything she says can't be corroborated, as is the case with any telepath." Leaning back in his chair, Scott folds his hands across his stomach and breathes in a deep breath and exhales a sigh. "I'm willing to see how it pans out, but consider this a high security issue, at least with Ivanov and Nichols. Demsky… I don't see the problem in rattling his cage and seeing what falls out, he might have a skeleton or two you don't know about."

Colette squints at that assessment from Scott, then nods her head slowly and leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her stomach as she breathes in deeply and then exhales a sigh. "That— about covers everything I— I guess." Green eyes move towards Melissa, one brow perked up as she considers the blonde.

"Danko's a nutjob I told you, he's that sick fucker who tried to kill Joseph and— " Colette stops her little rageblackout before it gets any worse, and swallows tightly, dipping her head down. "I… don't have a picture or nothin', no…"

"Emile Danko, former Marine and Federal agent, turned into an apparent leader of Humanis First. He's a murderous bastard. He seems to have lately abandoned his killing ways, after participating in some clandestine Federal mission. But it's likely only a matter of time before he resumes them. It is to be hoped, when he makes his move, people are ready for it and he vanishes from the earth with no fanfare or attention. I don't have a photo on me," Cat states, "but I can provide soon enough. He's about five feet and seven inches, has sunken eyes, and a fuzzy mostly bald head."

Colette gets a sharp look from Joseph, although such a glare is swiftly redirected and managed not to veer off towards Eileen. That Danko never really did try to kill Joseph— well it's not something he goes into here. It's complicated. "He's a threat to the Ferry," is what he goes with, looking towards Melissa. "He learned about the network from my church before he burned it down. Get a picture from Catherine, keep away from him — if only for the sake've your charges."

"Danko." Helena's voice is suddenly thick with hate. "He was working with my father in Humanis First." Helena's father. Oh, Melissa hasn't heard that story yet. "He's…a sonuvabitch, a bigot, a torturer, a murderer." Helena agrees, and can't help but add, "If humanity were judged on one single soul and that person was Emile Danko, we'd deserve to be wiped off the face of the planet."

Melissa nods to Colette. "I remembered that, just want more info." Then she's nodding to Cat. "I'd appreciate it." Another nod, this time for Joseph. "Can always burn it? I just want to know so I don't come face to face with the guy then end up like one of those chicks in the Saw movies or something, yanno?" Or with another grenade thrown at her. "Is he someone we want to detain if found, or do we want him wiped off the face of the earth?" she asks with what sounds like little more than idle curiosity, glancing between the others.

"Alright." Scott's voice booms from the table, like a teacher demanding the class get quiet after recess is over andeveryone is jittery. Slowly rising up from his chair and offering a mournful look to his empty cup of coffee, Scott releases his grip on the cup as a latticework of blue-white light slides over it and dissolves the mug into nothing but a few motes of light in safe storage somewhere between places. He may well have a whole kitchen cupboard in there. "We're off topic enough I think it's fair to call the meeting done for now. I'm taking the supply truck that just arrived back to the coast to get on the boat Ruskin kindly furnished us… I recommend those of you who don't want o be snowed in on the island do so as well."

Colette looks up as Scott rises, but doesn't make a move to get up, odds are she'll stay here tonight, her first night away from home in a long while. As Scott moves from the table, he points two fingers towards Eileen. "Itemize a list of possible solutions for the Ferry to handle infected victims of the five-ten, including secondary and tertiary safehouses for the sick should the Den no longer become viable. List possible resources and plans for the vaccination, and give me a list of the names of those three individuals Nichols brought up."

Those fingers wag at her after a moment, then point back to Eileen. "I'll get Wireless on a full background screen for all three, and if you can recommend people to talk to them that isn't related to them I'd appreciate it and set that up." Shrugging his shoulders and looking around to everyone gathered, Scott moves to Eileen's side and claps a hand down on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Good work…" he offers quietly before letting go and moving to the stairs.

"Stay or leave!" Scott calls out behind himself, "you can help unload the truck if you're going."

They've done enough good tonight, now they just need to plan.

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